


Steward

by trolalo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Gay Sex, M/M, Model Satin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 43,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trolalo/pseuds/trolalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot fics of all the parrings</p><p>Ch. 22 Renly/Loras</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jon/Satin

Jon Snow sat by the bar of a crowded thundering club quietly sipping on red wine as he gazed at the dance floor.

His friends Loras and Renly were probably off somewhere in the club drunkenly dancing, or having sex. Jo, however, was not so easily manipulated by the effects of alcohol and since he has only drank two glasses of wine, he isn't perturbed in the slightest by the horny girls (and the occasional boy) who tried to make moves on him. He often had more dignity than to go home with a stranger on toe.

Tonight was an exception.

He first saw him dancing lively to the music, his hips moving from side to side as he let the music flow and control his body. His eyes were closed, as far as John could tell, and the switching lights of the club simply made the shorter man look positively erotic. He was beautiful. Without hesitating John left his unfinished wine on the bar and walked leisurely towards the exotic man, like a predator walking towards his prey.

When he was standing right behind him, he placed his hands on the shorter man’s hips, and smirked as he saw goosebumps spread over his arms. He whispered on the man's ear, “Hey.”

The man in question never stopped dancing but instead turned around, and Jon had to suppress a cocky grin from spreading in his features as he saw his victim falter slightly, beautiful dark eyes going wide.

Jon’s hands never left his hips, and he now used that to his advantage to pull the man closer to him, their pelvis brushing against one another. Jon leaned closer to his ear, “what can I call you, babe?”

“Satin” his arms wound themselves around Jon's neck, and Jon took the invitation to softly bite on Satin's earlobe, relishing on the nearly inaudible gasp that emanated from his mouth, and Jon continued his path down the sharp edges of Satin's jaw, latching his mouth on his neck.

Satin moaned lowly as Jon's mouth bit and licked at his throat, unconsciously tightening his grip on Jon's neck. Seconds later Jon pulled away, smiling at the light bruise now adorning the shorter’s milky neck. He leaned closer to Satin's ear once again, and said, “you can call me Jon Snow, love.”

Jon would be lying if he said that he wasn't turned on by the dark lust clouding Satin's eyes, and the rosy blush that settled on his cheeks; he is sure that his own eyes mirror the very same emotion of desire. For a few seconds, Jon and Satin simply gazed at each other's eyes, hips moving to the beat of the music.

Then Satin surged forward and captured Jon's lips on his own in a messy kiss and John responded with vigor, possessively holding Satin's lithe body closer to his own.

Their tongues met midway combining the taste of wine and cocktail. At this point, they were both noticeably hard. Still the kiss turned fiercer as Satin's hands grasped and pulled Jon's curls, and Jon in return gripped Satin's ass in a tight hold.

They pulled apart only when the necessary need of air had them both breathless and even then Jon still took Satin’s plump bottom lip in between his teeth, and nibbled until he slightly tasted copper, and then wiped the pain away by swiping his tongue across his lips.. He only pulled away when Satin was tugging at the waistband of his jeans, and moaned sultrily on his ear, “take me.”

“Gladly.” He responded gruffly, and took Satin’s smaller calloused hand in his and led them outside where the chilly air simply brought more desire to the fire in their veins.

“My place?” Jon whispered lowly as he tugged Satin to his side, placing ghostly kisses to his cheekbones.

“Please.” Satin sighed, and it was more than enough for Jon to hurry to his car parked relatively near the entrance of the club.

The ride was quite a feat in itself, seeing how Satin made it his goal to distract Jon in every way possible. Even though his apartment was only minutes away it couldn't have felt longer. Satin was touching himself with one hand, small noises escaping his mouth. His other hand was draped across Jon's thighs, teasing the straining erection through the jeans. Jon gritted his teeth as he stepped on the pedal, arriving to his home in record time.

They were slightly calmer when getting inside the apartment building, but once the elevator door closed, Jon slammed Satin to the cold metal, and started devouring his mouth his hands gripping his hips firmly as their tongues fought languidly. Thank goodness that no one decided to use the elevator at 3:27 a.m.

Once inside his apartment, Jon pushed Satin against the door, hooking his lean legs around his waist both groaning as their crotches rubbed together and created the very lusted friction.

Satin nips at Jon throat whispering hotly against his skin. “Fuck, you're even hotter in the light.”

Jon chuckles lightly trusting his hips to meet Satin's, groaning as his erection started to painfully strain in his jeans. He let Satin stand on his own as he took off his shirt and pants smirking as Satin’s jaw hung slightly open at the god-like man in front of his very own eyes.

After seeing no further action from Satin, Jon took the liberty to take Satin’s shirt off too and unbuttoning his jeans, which Satin took off after regaining focus. Jon grinned at the dark bruise prominently dominating the side of his neck, and decided that he needed to see more bruises in Satin's beautifully milky skin.

He bit hard on the collarbone sucking lightly then licking softly. Satin, meanwhile, was producing whimpers as his head fell stiffly against the door. Jon moved farther down and added yet another hickey to the collection. Then he captured the shorter man by surprise and all thoughts were thrown out the window as the pair gasped and sighed against the connection of their lips.

After losing the feeling of lips against his, Jon opened his eyes to see Satin on his knees completely naked, and quickly pulling Jon's boxers down while maintaining eye contact with the taller man. Satin’s breath hitched after Jon's erection sprung free from its confines, and Jon tried to suppress a smirk, “see something you like?” Satin licked his lips looking at Jon's manhood like a starving man, and captured more than half of Jon's cock instantly, the latter groaning as he held Satin’s silky dark curls for dear life. As Satin bobbed his head, Jon decided to instead grip his hair tighter and started trusting his dick into the wet hot tunnel sinfully covering him.

Satin moaned around Jon clearly enjoying being treated rough. He took more of Jon into his mouth and wrapped his small hand around what he couldn't fit. Satin slurped and sucked on his cock like a dying man, and Jon simply could not believe his luck at finding this man tonight. However, only few people got to see Jon truly invested in the sex, and when these rare moments happened, he often could not control his mouth. “Such a cock slut. You're nothing more than just a whore. I bet you enjoy choking on my dick.”

The only response he received from Satin was humming, which sent vibrations throughout his cock making him groan. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the warm mouth after a few more seconds of trusting, and watched as Satin licked his cherry lips obscenely, rose to his feet placed his hands on Jon's chest and whispered, “make me yours.”

Jon growled, and slammed Satin against the wall gripping his legs and circling them around his own waist once again. They crush their lips together, open with gasps as Jon rubbed his dick on Satin’s ass, not penetrating just quite. Tongues clashed in a heated endeavor as Jon carried Satin towards his bedroom, throwing him carelessly towards the bed where Satin proceeded to open his legs. A clear invitation.

The taller chuckled draping himself over the other man, placing his weight on his knees as he rubbed their bare cocks together. The air of the room was filled with breathy moans from Satin and deep gasps from Jon. He only stilled when Satin placed his hand on his chest, “Jon, please.”

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.” Jon teased Satin his lips curled as he saw the blown irises in his eyes. “Beg me for it.”

Satin steadied himself, swallowed, and Jon started gracing his teeth over the skin, lightly nipping his neck again. Satin finally started, “God, Jon, I need your cock inside me, I need you to fuck me senseless until I'm crying. I need you to pin me down and make me yours, mark me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

Jon’s grip on his waist tightened to the point of bruising, and he gave a specially hard bite just a little above Satin's left nipple, before actually taking the round nub in his mouth. Satin yelped, his hips rising from the bed, but Jon held him down. He was sure that by the morning, Satin will be covered with raw evidence from their lustful acts all over his body, and that only spurred Jon to bite harder on the skin.

“Jon, Jon” Satin whined, his hand intertwined in the springy curls, and said man finally decided to have mercy on the breathlessly beautiful man lying in his bed.

He reached towards his drawer fishing out lube and a condom, feeling the anticipation soaking from Satin's body.

Jon opened the condom wrapper and slowly put the condom as he watched Satin who was biting his tender bottom lip. He opened the lube and smeared some on his fingers warming it slightly before placing his hand on Satin's back. A hand shot forward, however, and grabbed Jon's wrist to stop him. “No!”

Jon immediately retracted, and breathlessly asked “What's wrong?”

“Uh,” Satin blushed, his eyes cast downward, “I like to feel pain.”

Jon's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing, and instead started spread the lube on his cock, pumping slowly. “In that case,” he placed the tip of his manhood on Satin's entrance and watched the quick rise and fall of Satin's chest before trusting fully in taking both men to surprise.

A sob escaped Satin's throat as Jon filled him up, and Jon himself moaned deeply as a tight heat covered his dick.

He did not wait for Satin and just started trusting in and out of the lithe body beneath him relishing on the breathy moans that escaped Satin's mouth. His eyes were screwed shut as Jon pounded deep into his heat filling him up ever so beautifully.

“Jon,” Satin rasped out, and that was quite possibly the sexiest sound he had ever heard in his life “harder. Faster.”

His wishes were answered when Jon threw Satin's legs towards his shoulders, reaching a new depth that had Satin shed tears, screaming in pleasure, “Jon! Yes!”

He rammed and trusted deeply joining Satin in the groans. “Is this what you wanted, Satin? To be fucked in your dripping cunt by my cock? To be my bitch?”

Satin gasped, thrashing widely in the bed, but Jon had other plans. He quickly turned Satin around on all fours and entered him once again, immediately hitting his prostate, eliciting a loud scream from Satin's throat. “Jon!”

“You're my whore,” Jon whispered heatedly as he grabbed a handful of the raven hair and pulled along with his trusts. Satin was a mess. He pathetically cried, gasping feverishly. His hands gripped the bed sheets with rigor as the bed rocked along with their trusts.

With his other hand, Jon cupped Satin's soft ass in his hand, before raising it to print a perfect, red brand of his hand in his skin. Satin with the hair pulling, spanking, and actual fucking, was mewling into the bed, tears streaming down the curves of his cheeks. “I’m so close.”

“Me too,” Jon groaned against the arc of Satin’s back. Finally, Jon gave one last slap to his blotchy ass cheeks, before picking up Satin and placing him on his lap, with his chest towards Satin’s back. This time Satin rode Jon as the latter breathed harshly against his neck. He placed his hand on Satin’s ignored cock and started pumping in time with his trusts.

Satin’s eyes rolled backwards as he moaned deeply, the side of his clean neck exposed to Jon and he bit one last hickey on the delicious skin, adding to the already immense pleasure that Satin must be experiencing. Two trusts later, Satin came with a shout of Jon’s name spilling his seed onto his hand, stomach, and bed as the orgasm traveled intensely through his body.

Jon came shortly after with a strangled gasp, since Satin’s muscles clamped suddenly, almost painfully on him. Jon hissed as waves of pleasure fell crashing upon him, and he moaned brokenly, “Satin”

Seconds trickled by as the two men regained their posture breathing harshly as the lust started to fade into a simple memory. Jon was the first who broke the silence, “Satin the condom is starting to hurt.”

Satin whined slightly as Jon picked him up with ease, his cock falling limply between his legs as Satin’s raw hole fluttered at the sudden emptiness. Jon took off the condom and threw it away on the trashcan by his desk, and walked towards his bathroom to grab a wet towel to clean their mess.

When he came back towards his room Satin was curled up slightly on one edge of the bed eyes closed as a small smile played on his features. Jon sat on the bed and tried to clean Satin’s stomach and smiled at how Satin seemed ticklish particularly on the upper sides of his waist. Then a giggly Satin emerged as Jon tried to clean the remnants of lube from his back. Jon threw away the towel towards the bathroom and pulled up the covers over him and Satin, pulling the shorter man close to his chest.

Satin could clearly hear Jon’s heartbeat from his position, and he could resist but place a small lingering kiss on the source of the beating. Jon smiled, then frowned, “I’m sorry for talking to you that way, and being rough. I’m not usually like that.”

“It’s alright, dear Snow.” Satin said, looking up to Jon through his dark lashes, and Jon couldn’t help but truly savor this man’s pure beauty. “I have quite a lot of fantasies involving rough sex, and may I just say, you exceeded my expectations.”

Jon blushed now, and it seems that his cocky manner was lost, as it was now Satin who gained confidence after the actual deed.

Satin laughed softly and placed a kiss on Jon’s jaw. He closed his eyes and muttered, “goodnight, Jon.”

He smiled, “Goodnight, Satin.”

 

When Jon woke up the next morning he woke up to an empty bed. However, he also got a messy phone number scribbled on a piece of paper by his pillow, and a noise complaint from the neighbors.


	2. Loras/Renly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loras and Renly go camping ;)

That's it. Loras officially hated life. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no Internet connection. God, why'd he ever agree to come along on this camping trip? Oh yeah. Because he thought it'd be nice to meet his boyfriend Renly's family. It's not. They're all never together at the same time and that's like kinda sucky.

Loras was currently standing on Renly's car, trying to get reception. Loras growls when it doesn't work.

"Dude, service is not everything." Renly says from behind Loras. Loras turns around quickly to see the motherfucker smirking. Loras gets on his knees fully on the car, coming face to face with Renly.

"Yeah, to some people. But I need it to live." Loras says, holding out his phone as if to show Renly all his needs. Renly snorts, taking the phone, much to Loras’ displeasure.

"Stop." Renly demands when Loras whines. Loras does, scoffing. Renly smirks, swinging Loras’ phone back and forth in his fingers.

"I actually know something we can do that's better than getting service." Renly says, licking his lips. Loras gulps before leaning in to kiss Renly. Renly backs up though, Loras huffing.

"I'll be in the tent, if you need me." Renly says, before turning around and walking, Loras’ phone never leaving his hand. God, what a manipulator.

Loras groans, quickly getting off Renly's car.

"Wait for me." Loras whines, chasing to catch up with Renly. Renly ducks into the tent, Loras a few feet behind him. God, stupid head starts.

Once Loras ducks into the tent, Renly already had his shirt off, looking at Loras with an eager expression.

"What?" Loras asks, defensively, cocking an eyebrow. Renly sighs, rolling his eyes.

"Strip." Renly demands, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Loras eyes widen in shock. Holy shit, they're actually gonna fuck. The furthest they've gotten was Loras giving Renly a blow job.

Loras quickly takes off his shirt, quickly trying to unbutton his jeans. It was taking longer than expected and Renly was getting annoyed. Now in just a pair of boxers, Renly quickly unbuttons Loras jeans, tugging them down. Thank God, Loras blushes, looking down embarrassed, as he steps out of his jeans, kicking them somewhere. Renly stands up fully, looking down at Loras. He smiles before leaning down, kissing the smaller boy. Renly smiles, pulling Loras close. God, he loved his boyfriend.

Loras wraps his arms around the back of Renly’s neck. Well, at least the best he could. God, he hates height differences, despite how adorable Renly always calls it.

Loras kisses Renly back, passionately. Renly smirks, lifting Loras up by his ass. And of course the mother fucker can do that cause he's the football team captain. Asshole. How'd they even find a tent his height? Stupid rich people.

Loras wraps his legs around Renly's waist, pulling them closer together.

"I love you." Loras says, once they break the kiss. Loras hid his face in Renly's shoulder, panting heavy.

"Yeah." Renly says, nodding before kissing Loras again. Loras wasn't really offended that Renly didn't say it back. He just didn't like the word.

Renly was the one to pull away this time, licking his lips. He puts Loras down, surprising the younger boy.

"Lay down. Boxers off." Renly demands, his voice low and seductive. Loras squeals, actually fucking squeals. In his defense, Renly's voice was sexy like that.

Loras listens, slowly and awkwardly stripping off his boxers. Thank God Renly wasn't paying attention because the sight alone would be such a turn off. Loras was never good at seductive stripping. Oh well.

Loras lays down on the sleeping bag they have set out, Renly digging through his bag for something. He finally finds what he was looking for, quickly pulling it out. In his hand was a condom and some lube. Liam groans at the condom. God, he hates those things.

"Just pull out." Loras says, whining. Renly would be annoyed but Loras was basically telling Renly to bareback him, which Renly isn't gonna take for granted. Renly bites his lip, throwing the condom down. Loras smiles as Renly sits in front of him, between the brunette boy's legs. Loras opens them wider, Renly leaning down to kiss him.

"You're so cute." Renly says, before slithering down to the bottom half of Loras. Loras props himself on his elbows so that, to Renly, it wouldn't look like he had a major double chin. Embarrassing.

Loras bites his lip, beaming up at the taller boy. Renly smirks, loving this. Loras’ just so adorable.

"Please fuck me." Loras says his voice needy and pleading. Renly bites his lip, nodding.

"Lay back." Renly says, Loras obeying quickly. He lies on his back, spreading his legs wider. Renly smirks, quickly lubing up his fingers. God, he always hated the stretching. It's just so boring.

"Relax." Renly says, soothingly as he prods a finger against Loras’ hole. Loras holds his breath as it slips in. Loras was surprised at the feeling. It was more uncomfortable than painful.

Loras squirms around, trying to adjust. Renly pokes in a second finger, Loras freezing. Yep, there's the pain. Loras cries out at the sensation. God, it burns.

"Loras, relax." Renly says, again, his free hand sitting on Loras’ stomach. Loras thrusts up, trying to get Renly’s fingers away from him. Why do people enjoy this so much.

"Burns. Burns real bad." Loras says, tearing up. Renly tries to calm him down. The last thing they need is one of Renly's family members walking in on them.

"Okay, I know. I know. It gets better." Renly says, beginning to thrust up fingers in and out of Loras. Loras flinches but keeps his mouth shut. If Renly says it gets better, then it'll get better.

Renly twists his fingers a certain way, making the smaller boy gasp in surprise. Fuck, that sent butterflies to his stomach.

"Told you." Renly says, stretching Loras out with his fingers. He adds a third finger, making Loras groan. This felt nice.

"Thank you." Loras says, in between pants. Renly snorts, twisting his fingers one last time before pulling out. Loras’ stretched enough.

Loras groans at the loss of contact, especially since he was so close to his orgasm.

Renly snorts, rolling his eyes jokingly as he strips off his boxers. He throws them where Loras’ pair is, unintentionally.

Loras eyes widen at the sight of Renly’s dick. That's supposed to fit inside him? Sure, Loras seen his dick before. He even had it in his mouth. Loras really didn't give much thought to the size, seeing as how he thought taking dick would be easy and enjoyable. It's not. And Renly's gonna rip him in half.

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you." Renly says, leaning up to kiss Loras, his other hand jerking himself off, trying to spread the lube everywhere.

"Thanks." Loras says, nodding once they pull away. Renly stops with his hand, placing them on Loras’ calves. Loras puts his legs over Renly’s thighs, resting on his hips as the taller boy pushes into him. Okay, so despite being new to sex, Loras watched enough porn to know the positions.

Renly smirks, leaning down and kissing Loras. Loras flinches slightly when Renly gets past three inches.

"Sorry." Renly says, pushing in slower. He forgot Loras was a beginner. Loras nods in acceptance. That's the only thing he could do if he didn't wanna cry out in pain. It felt like Renly was ripping him apart which he probably was.

"You're taking this like a champ." Renly says, he’s tight as fuck, making Loras smile. Loras loves when Renly praises him.

"Awe, you're bushing, Princess." Renly says, making Loras blush harder. Renly slowly pulls half way out of Loras before thrusting back in. Loras grunts, forgetting that they were in the middle of this.

"I love you." Loras says as Renly continues to thrust into him. Renly nods his head, kissing Loras again.

Loras throws his head back in surprise, Renly hitting his prostate.

"Fuck." Loras says, his hands gripping into Renly's hair. Renly smirks, knowing he hit the right spot. Renly continues to thrust into Loras, whispering obscene words into the smaller boy's ear. All the dirty talk and Renly hitting his prostate was way to much.

"Renly, I'm gonna-" Loras tries to warn but ends up orgasming all over himself and Renly, white spurting onto their stomachs. Loras moans out when it happens, still in shock that he came untouched.

"Fuck." Renly mumbles out Loras’ walls clench around his dick. And he tried to pull out, he really did. But before he knew it, he was coming inside Loras. Loras bites his lip, pulling Renly close, so much for the pull out method.

Renly pulls out of Loras, the brunette boy grunting.

"I'm all sticky." Loras says, once Renly lies beside him. Renly smiles, putting his arm around Loras, god, he loves this boy.

Loras cuddles into his side, sleepily.

"Goodnight, Loras." Renly says, kissing Loras on the forehead.

"Goodnight Renly, love you." Loras says, yawning. Renly smiles, pulling the covers over them.

"I love you." Renly says, making Loras gasp. Holy shit. He said it. He actually said it! Loras grins up at Renly, a gleam in his eyes. Renly smiles down at him, completely and pathetically in love.

He's gonna marry that boy someday. And he's positive about that. They're soul mates and nobody’s going to say different.

Loras leans up and kisses Renly, smiling. Loras couldn't be more in love with another human being.

"Goodnight." Loras says, before turning around. Renly spoons him, holding his hand. God, this is the life. 


	3. Robb/Theon

Robb was drunk. Not tipsy-drunk, he had passed that an hour ago. He was flat out, stinking, falling down drunk. Which, Robb thought was the only kind of drunk to be.

Everyone smiled at him and, he thought, probably wished he'd expose one of his nipples. He wasn’t certain how he knew, he just did. With the winks and the grins and women flipping their hair, the men flipping their fingers up at him—yeah, he felt certain.

If he did this, gave the crowd what they wanted, it wouldn’t be because he was drunk—it would be because he loved to please people. He was a goddamned people pleaser.

So he did it: he walked around with a beer in his left hand and his right clenching a fist into his t-shirt. The worn fabric rose high above his right nipple. His chest was bare, his ribs showing as he stretched to reveal his upper torso to the crowd.

He tried to wink a few times as he passed his fellow cast members, nodded at the crew members he occasionally stumbled into, smiled at those who noticed him (which was everyone, of course). He found he lost his balance with the winking. And some beer, he realized, when he had felt something warm and wet soak through his shirt. He could live with losing the balance, but he really disliked spilling his beer.

It wouldn't matter if he busted his ass. He had questioned the nipple-flashing, but he knew without a shred of doubt that it wouldn’t matter if he slipped, tripped, landed on his ass. Each and every person at the party would all still want to fuck him. Even the guys—especially the ones he thought he heard cough “idiot” into their fists, the poor bastards—wanted to fuck him.

What Robb wanted, though, was to find Theon. His cast mate—his co-star, partner in crime, darkly handsome jack-off fantasy—would be lurking somewhere. Yeah, Robb waned to fuck Theon. To dig his jagged, bitten nails into the cheeks of that ass, to bite his shoulder while he pounded into that round flesh. He'd have to find him. Now.

He tossed his half-empty cup of beer at someone and picked up another from the nearest table.

Theon had been dragged to the center of the lot by someone named Jenny, or maybe Jeyne. She had told him her name—screamed it to him, actually—but he had only nodded at her and continued to listen to Steve sing about the streetlight people, living just to find emotion.  _That's me_ , he had thought,  _living just to find emotion_.

Now he felt surrounded, felt as though the crowd was closing in on them. The parties were never his idea; the food, the lights, the booze, not his idea, but it was important that people have fun. But he—maybe he remembered enjoying them at first?

Maybe it was that he wanted to enjoy them. Maybe he let himself get talked into them because it was a ready-made excuse to get lost in a crowd, lost in some good music. He wasn't sure, not really, but this standing in the middle of everyone, being dragged to participate in conversation, hands clawing and pushing at him, was definitely not something he wanted.

He twisted to look around, to find an out. His arm ached underneath the girl’s talons; he felt sure that his skin broke underneath them, puncture wounds he’d have to bandage later. When he finally resigned to an evening with her until she at least loosened her hold on him, his eyes wandered around the room and fell upon Robb. His co-star’s face broke out into a bright grin when he noticed Theon’s eyes were on him, and Robb was tripping over his feet as he made his way towards Theon.

Robb didn't know the name of the girl who fawned over Theon but he thought it might be Arry. That couldn't be right, though, because his sister's name was Arya. Maybe it was Alys. He didn't care. He cared about telling Theon he wanted to push his cock into him…

"Hey, Theo--" Robb shouted, stumbling forward as he hailed him with an upraised arm. When he was within a foot of Theon, he fell against the man. His hands grabbed and held onto Theon’s toned shoulders. He dragged himself up to look him in the eyes.

"Hey, Theon, hey," he said. "I want to fuck you." His mouth felt sticky. He licked around his teeth and the insides of his cheeks. He worried for a moment that Theon hadn’t understood him. Theon only stared at him and Robb squinted one of his eyes closed and then switched to the other. He opened them both wide, letting them take turns, to try and focus on the stormy eyes in front of him.

Theon's face was still. Robb tried to take a step back, releasing his hold on Theon’s shoulders. It was good he did that, he thought, good he let go of the muscle. All of that meat under his fingers would just make him think of Theon reaching for him, Theon hot underneath him, Theon’s cock bobbing in his face before thrusting into his...

Robb lost his balance. He lurched forward, and was steadied when Theon grabbed his biceps, squeezed Robb’s arms until Robb righted himself. He reached up, crossed his arms to lay his hands on top Theon’s hands.

The girl who had been talking to Theon looked from one man to the other, to where they held each other. To where their eyes locked. She turned and walked away.

Before Robb had stumbled over, Theon had worried over the extent to which he would go to find a way from the malaise. The girl had bored him, just as much as the party itself did. This—Robb coming on to him—well, that was certainly new. Definitely not boring.

"You want to run that by me again, Robb?" His voice was gruff, thick from the strain of keeping the other man up.

Robb looked at him, his eyes slits but his face broken with a wide, toothy grin. "I want to fuck you," he said again, managing to enunciate around the swell of his tongue. He let go of Theon’s hands and rocked on his heels a little as he started to tug his shirt up again.

"Stop," Theon said, stilling Robb's hand and rolling the shirt back down. "Stop showing off your nipples. You've probably been running around all night with those things showing and by the looks of it—“he made a point to look around them “—you’re weirding people out."

“You noticed my nipples, huh?” He tried to wink and tipped to the right a bit

“Way to focus on the important stuff,” Theon muttered.

Instead of trying to wink again, Robb looked around them. "They want me.” He leaned against Theon's chest to whisper in his ear. "They want to put me in their mouths. Hundreds of wet mouths hungry for my dick--"

"Okay, buddy," Theon interrupted him, smiling at the faces turned to them in apparent interest. "Let's go protect you from the horde by putting you to bed." He snagged Robb's t-shirt by the bottom hem and led him to where his co-star’s trailer was parked.

They had made it outside the perimeter of the crowd before Theon felt a tap on his back. When he turned around to answer, Robb fell against him. Robb crushed his mouth to Theon's and held it there, locking them into a dry, tight-lipped kiss. They both staggered from the weight of Robb’s lunge until Theon pushed Robb off of him. Pushed him away until he felt there was enough room between them to catch his breath.

Robb absentmindedly rubbed at his chest where Theon had pushed him. Theon’s eyes focused on Robb, saw the way Robb’s hip cocked to one side, saw the movement of Robb’s hand rubbing slow circles over his chest. Theon felt—he wasn't sure what he felt. He wasn't sure whether or not he liked that, not knowing. He did feel, though, the urge to pull Robb back to him, to find the taste of him underneath the brine of sour beer.

He tugged on Robb's shirt and propelled him into motion, stepping beside him so they could walk next to each other. He didn't want to think about Robb behind him. The hard kiss was in his head, the feel of Robb against him spread warm through him, into the places Robb had touched him.

There was no way he’d let Robb stay behind him. His newly-found traitor of a mind might fantasize beyond a kiss, and no—there wouldn’t be any of that.

A trip to Robb's trailer, Theon told himself, would take longer than if he just let him crash at his trailer. It was closer and—he snatched the back of Robb's shirt when Robb tripped over a stray rock and stumbled forward—easier. To take Robb to what was most convenient would be much easier, much safer.

Five minutes of stumbling and cursing and grabbing at t-shirts later, they made it to Theon's trailer. He propped Robb against the short stair railing, waited to see if Robb would fall. Theon pulled his keys from his pocket, shaking them over his palm to find the right one. Robb staggered and leaned over the side of the railing, his left cheek pressing against Theon’s ass. Theon propped him back up with one hand and let go when Robb sagged against the side of the trailer.

Theon fumbled with the keys, turning each one in the dim light. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he found the right key and inserted it into the lock. The door gave beneath the twist of the knob.

He dragged Robb up and directed him to step in front of him, pointed towards the stairs that lead into his trailer.

"Come on, buddy, get inside."

"This isn't my trailer," Robb said, his forehead wrinkled with obvious confusion. He leaned forward to peer inside the dark den in front of them. Theon stepped up behind him, anticipating Robb moving inside but, instead, Robb leaned forward further and pressed his ass into Theon’s crotch.

"No, it's mine.” Theon maneuvered away from Robb’s ass as he felt a familiar tightening beneath his jeans. He was sure if Robb was sober he wouldn’t be doing this. He wasn’t embarrassed—he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious—but he wasn’t embarrassed. Not much, anyway.  "It was closer."

"Oh," Robb said, his head turned back to Theon. "Well, don't look at my ass…" he trailed off mid-sentence. He watched Theon's face while Theon watched Robb’s display of a sloppy leer.

"Unless you want to," Robb finished.

"I won't," Theon said, fighting the urge to look. "What I mean to say is that I don't. Want to."

He looked anyway.

Robb smiled and leaned forward again. He twisted his stance, purposely grinding back into Theon’s crotch before grabbing the insides of the trailer threshold. He launched himself up the stairs.

"Piece of cake," he said, turning to look back at Theon over his left shoulder. A smug, self-satisfied look crossed his features before he fell forward and landed on his face.

"Shit." Theon jumped into the trailer behind Robb and found him sprawled face down in the carpet. He wrapped his arms underneath Robb's chest, gripping his own wrists as he yanked up and back. Robb shoved suddenly upward, throwing the two of them off balance. They crashed backward against the wall.

Robb smiled at the way Theon fit against him. The way they were pressed together, standing back to front against the wall, Robb could feel the hard body behind him. He turned to stand face to face with Theon, to face those toned shoulders, those narrow hips. The beer in him still affected a sway, still blurred his vision. Two Theon's looked back at him but he felt around until his hand landed on the solid one.

He leaned in and grinned. "This is good," he said and he bent to Theon's throat. His tongue slicked his lips and he pressed them, moist, against Theon’s skin. He breathed him in, tasted the tang of sweat and smelled the heady spice that was all Theon. He pressed his lips firmly against the pulse that beat rapidly under the tan skin of Theon’s neck.

Theon twisted his head and grabbed where Robb's arms straddled him on the wall. What was he allowing to happen? This isn’t really what he had in mind when he decided to bring Robb here. Was it? Did he want this? He swung out from beneath Robb and walked the seven steps that put him in the middle of the trailer.

"We're like brothers--" Robb said as he sagged back against the paneled wall behind him. “Brothers… do things. Together.” Theon watched him arch his body away from the faux-wood, sliding one of his hands down his chest, down his stomach. Watched as Robb tucked his fingers under the waist of his jeans, underneath the buckle of belt and let them rest there as he grinned back at Theon. "Like the show." He reached out to Theon who, despite the distance between them, stepped back.

"Brothers don't do what you're suggesting," Theon said. He meant to take another step away but Robb’s eyes flashed and Theon’s feet moved him forward instead.

"Sure they do," and Robb grinned, teeth flashing. "They just don't admit it." And he laughed at the expression on the twin Theon's faces. And then he laughed harder because he was really drunk, really horny and on the verge of really desperate. If Theon wasn't going to play, he might as well find a place to do it himself. Or go back to the party and find himself an extra who wouldn’t be on the set the following week.

Robb's arm dropped to his side and he straightened. The door was to his left and that was the way to the person—or persons, he thought, amused with himself—who was going to suck him off.

He had only made it one rocky foot away from the wall when Theon moved—faster than Robb's inebriated mind could follow—to push him back against the wall.

"You don't want to do this," Theon growled.

"Sure, I do," Robb said, his eyes wide and his cheeky grin slipping into a hard line. "I can leave whenever I want.” He flashed Theon a wicked grin. “ _Do_  whatever I want."

"No," Theon said and he yanked Robb against him into a kiss. Their teeth gnashed and Robb's mouth parted in response to Theon's tongue. Theon’s mouth ripped at Robb’s, rough and demanding, teasing a moan out from somewhere in the region of Robb’s stomach before pulling away.

"You don't want  _this_ ," Theon said again. Robb could see his eyes had turned dark, his face hard. The change was visible—evident when Theon pressed himself harder against Robb.

Robb tilted his chin up in drunken defiance—it had to be the alcohol as he would never have challenged Theon when sober. "Yes, I do," he said and lifted his hips to Theon's.

Something snapped inside of Theon. It beat at his chest and spread until it hummed everywhere. It was fierce, primal, and it broke from his throat as he wrenched at Robb's wrists, twisting them until Robb’s body turned against his. He pushed Robb, arms now pinned above his head, until he fell flat against the wall.

This wasn’t like him. He didn’t make it with guys. Yet here was this drunk punk, sheets above sheets to the wind, and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to fuck his way into that inebriation. To force his way so deep inside that he swam in a haze with him.

Robb’s face pressed painfully into the faux-wood paneling of the trailer. He winced when his face was pinched between two panels but, he realized, he started to laugh anyway. He laughed because he hadn’t had a drink in at least forty-five minutes. He laughed because some part of his brain was sobering. He laughed because it was Theon behind him, fighting for control, yet wanting to fuck him. Fuck him as much as Robb wanted to fuck him back. All the evidence he needed pressed against him.

The length of Theon’s cock protruded in a tight bulge behind those jeans; it strained to be free of the denim, pushed hard against Robb’s ass. Theon groped for Robb’s hands and squeezed them. He lifted them back and slapped them against the wall. The shock of it stung Robb’s palms. He could feel the reverberation of the slap travel into his forearms, his elbows, ride high into his shoulders where Theon’s forehead lay pressed against him.

Robb still laughed.

Theon didn’t think he could stand it a minute longer. One more twitch of those hips and he’d come undone. Theon let go of Robb’s hands—not sorry that he may have hurt Robb, not sorry to let go, but eager to explore how far he could take this—before Robb stopped him; before he stopped himself.

Theon was eager to find out what lay beneath Robb’s shirt and dirty jeans.

His hands slid down Robb’s arms, tightening over toned muscle. Not as toned, not as strong, as he was, Theon knew from being on set with him. Close, but not exactly. Soft, but not like so many of his pliable, disposable women.

Theon slid his hands up the length of Robb’s arms, followed them to his shoulders, to where his neck stretched. He took a moment to trace the length of that long neck with the sides of his thumbs.

Robb muffled a moan with the wall and Theon felt Robb’s hips thrust against the wood. Felt the beginning of a war inside Robb as the other man tried to grind his erection against the wall and simultaneously shift his ass closer to Theon. He let his hands fall to Robb’s shoulder blades and spread his fingers as wide as he could to take in the feel of bone and muscle beneath the shirt. He leaned in and pressed his face there, tested the feel of his cheek against the hollow between Robb’s shoulder blades.

Robb’s shirt smelled of beer and sweat. Grit clung to it, a result of multiple hits to the ground. Theon leaned back to study the shirt and, gripping the hem, tore into it, watched it rip apart. He braced himself as Robb jumped, snapping his head back to look at Theon.

“That was my favorite shirt,” he said, not really sounding upset.

Theon palmed Robb’s face and pushed it back against the wall. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He skimmed the palms of his hands along the pale back in front of him. His calloused hands were rough against the soft flesh of Robb’s back, caused a ripple of goose pimples to erupt. Theon wanted to know what the warm skin felt like against his own. He let go of Robb long enough to lift his own shirt up over his head. He pressed his chest to Robb’s back, marveling at how the skin met. The goosed flesh tickled across his skin, flitted over, and hardened, his nipples.

Theon groaned the moment the sensation hit the pit of his stomach. It felt like someone had reached in, grabbed hold of his cock and tugged. The need to bury himself inside of something—a hand, a mouth, whatever—fought through him and he struggled with the button of his jeans. He yanked on the zipper and let the denim drop to his ankles. An expanse of toned thigh appeared, a small mound of dark hair curled around his dick.

He paused, his fingers already inside the waistband of Robb’s jeans. The strain of keeping himself in control strangled his voice into a hoarse whisper. “I’ve never done this before” he said.

Robb turned his head to look at Theon. His eyes looked bleary. “Me either,” he managed. His voice croaked out like a bullfrog’s, but it sounded like sin to Theon.

“I imagine,” Robb continued, “that it’s a bit like fucking a woman. Prep, stick, pump.”

“If you think all it takes is a little ‘prep, stick, pump,’ then no wonder you’re here with me,” Theon replied as he grabbed his cock, knelt, and slid it between Robb’s thighs. He stood high enough to slide his cock across Robb’s balls; slide across the base of Robb’s dick.

His legs shook violently at the strained motions. There must be special leg muscles that gay men have, he thought, that allowed them to fuck against a wall like this. Or maybe it was that foreplay wasn’t standing up, just the sex.

He adjusted his position—anything to keep his legs from folding—and leaned against Robb again, just let the throb of his cock pulse against Robb’s ass. An urgent need to move built up inside of him. It felt as though he would explode if he didn’t move, didn’t slip into something velvety warm. He started to move to his own pulsing, started to grind himself against Robb’s ass—shift away, grind, shift away, grind.

He discarded the idea of freeing Robb from his jeans and reached, instead, to pinch Robb’s nipples. Theon’s cock jumped as Robb’s breath hitched and the combination of the two provoked such a breathtaking sweetness that Theon closed his eyes to savor the feeling. His hips began to thrust harder against Robb, aiming for a sweet little heaven in the form of the valley between Robb’s ass cheeks. It seemed to have been created special, just for him—to cup the hardness of him.

Robb coughed and interrupted Theon’s self-hypnotic thrusting. “I think you’re forgetting someone,” Robb said.

“Hmm?” Theon asked. He opened his eyes to find Robb staring at him over his shoulder. The eyes staring back at him weren’t bleary from alcohol anymore. Theon liked that, liked knowing that he had an effect on Robb that sobered him enough from the alcohol to know who he was with—a Theon-effect that intoxicated Robb with lust. Especially since Robb had a similar effect on him. “I never forget anyone.”

Theon reached up to palm Robb’s face again but Robb preempted and put his face to the wall for him. He felt the sweetness of Robb’s ass pushing back into him again and he almost lost it, almost started to rock back into the hypnotic thrust against the worn jeans. But he heard the click of a buckle being snapped back and the hiss of a zipper being tugged down. He was struck by how erotic the sound could be. It wasn’t the act but the promise behind the act.

Theon reached an arm around to tear Robb’s hands away. He wanted to do it himself, wanted to undress him, to let Robb  _let_  him undress him. The loose fabric fell as soon as Robb’s hands were removed and Theon’s own hand dove to reach inside the cotton boxers. It was warm there, so warm; warmer still when he ducked his hand, avoiding the demanding cock, and cupped Robb’s balls in his hand. He squeezed and Robb’s hips jerked.

Theon groaned in response to the pressure that drummed a throbbing beat in his own balls. He could feel pre-come release and cool, slide off the head of his cock. It pooled where his skin grazed Robb’s ass.

“Fuck,” Robb said. It was more of a gasp. “Fuck.”

He wanted Theon to touch him. He wanted him to touch him  _there_ \--to grab his dick in one hand and fist him while the other wrapped around and just held on for the ride. But his legs wouldn’t hold forever. The strength he normally possessed had been replaced with alcohol-saturated weakness.

“We need to move,” he said. His hand fell from the wall and snaked behind him, searching blindly to where Theon was pressed against him. He found Theon, found Theon’s cock. And then it was in his hand and he loved the softness of it, loved how he could feel the veins pulse with energy.

“My bed,” he heard Theon say around a groan.

Robb pushed back from the wall—Theon grunted his approval—and, more clumsily than drunkenly, stepped out of his jeans. He let go of the cock in his hand and turned to face Theon. What he saw on that face filled him with yearning, made his body jerk and twinge with want. He dropped to his knees. It could have been the beer, but he didn’t really feel that drunk anymore. This intoxication he was feeling was of something more, something lustful. Something entirely Theon.

A magnificent dick stared him in the face. It was long, which made Robb smirk, but the length was made up by girth. That girth, Robb felt sure, would most likely be fucking him in ten minutes or less. If it were up to him, then definitely less.

The width was nothing as glorious as the curve of it—a splendid form that turned up. It nearly touched Theon’s stomach and looked as though it had when Robb noticed a glistening trail near Theon’s navel.

Robb touched it, stroked the length of it, watched as Theon’s abs tightened when his fingers wrapped around it. The pad of this thumb lightly pushed into the base of the head and Theon thrust into Robb’s fist.

“Ah, shit, Robb,” Theon said. Robb looked up at him through the thick bangs that crossed his brow. Theon was looking down at him, down at his hand and then into his eyes. But his eyes closed when Robb moved and pulled Theon’s cock toward his mouth. His tongue stretched out, hesitant, to lick pre-come from the head. He ran the taste around his mouth, across his teeth. It wasn’t unpleasant. Wasn’t much of anything, really. Better than beer.

Theon thrust himself into Robb’s hand again.

Robb eyed the size of the cock in front of him. He opened and closed his mouth, experimenting, and then brushed his lips across the tip. Theon exhaled a gust of breath at the near-contact, the eagerness sounded like a whimper and compelled Robb further.

There was no hesitancy when Robb moved forward this time; it wasn’t a brush, no tentative movements. He pressed his lips there, parted them enough that his tongue could dip into the slit, lick it free of pre-come, leaving it glistening with his saliva. Robb like that. Liked that his mouth had been there. Liked how he wanted to taste more, to fill himself with it.

He opened his mouth, still hesitant over the fit, and brushed the head past his lips, teeth. No more than three inches, he guessed, but he knew that was all right. Knew it was all right when his lips settled over his teeth, knew it when his tongue involuntarily moved and Theon’s cock jumped inside his mouth. He inhaled as much he could, then exhaled. On the next inhale he slowly drew Theon from his mouth. He let his lips catch on the sides of the head, exhaled as he swallowed more cock.

Theon’s hands wrapped and clenched in Robb’s curls. He felt the fingers pull when Theon tried to push himself further into his mouth. Robb’s hands shifted; one hand splayed out over Theon’s bare ass, the other worked itself around the base of Theon’s cock. They were caught in the rhythm—inhale, up, exhale, down—of Robb’s sucking. It was the two of them and nothing else but sucking cock and getting sucked.

Theon had never felt this before. He’d had plenty of blow jobs, plenty of offers for blow jobs, but this—Robb’s mouth around his dick—was more than he had expected. It wasn’t supposed to be this good,  _feel_  this good, right? But it was Robb. It was Robb’s mouth around his cock, Robb who was squeezing his balls and making his knees weak. Did he care? No. If getting his dick sucked off by a dude made him gay, Theon thought as he thrust himself wildly into Robb’s hot, slick mouth, then he’d be gay for Robb. If this was what gay felt like, then he was a fuckin’ queer.

Theon’s body tensed, tightened, underneath Robb’s administration. At the same time he could feel his legs growing weaker. They needed to move, Robb had been right about that.

“My bed,” he managed to say again. “Oh, God, my bed.” Robb pulled on his cock with a glorious twist of his head. Theon looked down to find Robb was watching him. If they didn’t stop right now, didn’t find somewhere for him to lean, then Theon was going to fall on top of Robb. With his luck he’d probably break that magnificent jaw. He couldn’t let that happen. There was that mouth attached to that jaw. That jaw allowed the sucking to happen.

He yanked Robb’s curls. Not hard enough for teeth to bare down, but hard enough to stop him. “Too fast,” he said, gruff and curt. “Bed. Go. Now.”

Robb nodded, too slack-jawed to speak. Theon offered Robb his arms to help him stand and, when Robb managed to right himself, Theon finally noticed how hard Robb had become. Their eyes met and Theon wrapped a hand around the back of Robb’s neck. He pulled him against his body, pulled until their cocks pressed against their bellies.

Theon kissed Robb. He tasted himself in Robb’s mouth, tongued the inside of Robb’s cheeks to trace everywhere his cock had been. He had never done that before, never kissed someone after they went down on him. The idea had always disgusted him. But with Robb he couldn’t seem to get enough. He ran his fingers through the curls at Robb’s nape, bit his bottom lip in order to distract from his other hand where it slipped between them and was now pulling on Robb’s cock.

He was probably too rough, too fast, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. Not right now. He let go of Robb—too soon for either of them, probably—and grabbed the other man’s hand instead. He led the way to his bed, bypassing the kitchenette, bypassing the pile of dirty clothes. And when they got there, he pushed Robb in front of him, let him stumble backward unaccompanied onto his bed. He knelt at the foot of it, not bothering with the pleasantries of head teasing or mouth stretching.

Robb’s cock was thicker than his own. There was no way he was going to be able to swallow it all down, but it fit well enough. Every little thing he remembered from the blow jobs he received was going to have to go into this. Every little thing he remembered fuckin’ loving was going to have to be copied for the cock that stood erect in front of him.

Without pause, Theon rolled his tongue along the bottom of the Robb’s cock, reveled in the way Robb’s hips bucked each time he paused and sucked on the head. He grabbed the base of it with one hand while the other tried to keep Robb’s hips from bucking. His mouth sucked and pulled up, his hand followed. His mouth slid down, his hand followed. He wasn’t sure if that was exactly the way it was done, exactly the way he remembered, but Robb responded in a way that pleased Theon and that was enough; especially when Robb started to pant and squirm and half-form Theon’s name.

“Theon, Theo-, Theon.” As if he was a broken record. But with each play of his name the pitch rose and the bucking grew more wild. Even a novice cock sucker like Theon knew enough to stop before it was all over.

He took his mouth off of Robb’s cock and Robb lifted his head to look up at him. He looked offended which, Theon knew, was exactly how he felt a few moments before in the living area of the trailer.

“I don’t know what to do next,” Theon admitted.

“We would have gotten to that if you hadn’t stopped,” Robb said with more of a snarl than he probably meant.

“No, I mean,  _what to do next_ ,” Theon said. “I’ve never fucked a guy in the ass, have you? Aren’t there rules or something?”

Robb stared at him, open mouthed. “Short of, like, ‘don’t forget the lube,’ I think we’re okay.” He blushed

“Lube.” Theon’s face paled.

“I don’t know about you, Theon, but I’m not getting fucked in the ass without lube. It’s bad enough there’s never been anything going up it before, but—“

“I get the picture,” Theon said. No lube meant no fucking. No fucking meant the rest of the night would be blow-job’s until they grew tired of it or each other—which, Theon thought, wouldn’t be  _bad_  but not what he wanted.

“Well,” he said, “I don’t have lube but I think I have some lotion.” He looked around the sides of his bed and lunged for a bottle of Jergens. He held it up for Robb to inspect. “Think this will work?”

“I don’t see why not,” Robb said. The hunger had never left his eyes but it sparked brighter as he watched Theon uncap the lotion and pour some into his palm. “Your lotion, your fuck.”

“You sure,” asked Theon, not really caring to hear the answer as he slathered the cold lotion over his cock. “Fuck. Cold. God damn but that feels good.” He fisted his cock in his hand and rocked into it a couple of times.

He looked at Robb, looked at Robb watching him fuck his own hand, and motioned for him to turn over. When he did and that bare ass was in the air, Theon nearly fucked himself to the sight Then Robb propped it in the air, offered it to Theon, and Theon grabbed the lotion again.

He filled his hands with the stuff, though he wasn’t sure how much he needed to use, and he started to work it into Robb’s ass. He avoided the puckered lips of Robb’s asshole but knew that just lotion on him wasn’t going to be enough. He was going to need to lube inside Robb too. It was either lube it or leave it and Theon didn’t really want to go this far, do this much, without at least getting what he really wanted.

If he were experienced in these matters, he would have carefully stretched Robb out, working oiled fingers in and out of his ass. But he wasn’t and neither was Robb. He spread the lotion as much as he dared over the rim of Robb’s ass.

He took position behind Robb’s ass and looked down at the flesh beneath. It spread for him, begged for him. He wanted nothing more than to plunge. His hand squeezed his cock, just behind the head of it, and placed it at the edge of Robb’s ass. Robb froze and Theon could feel it. He let go of his cock, though it remained hovering there, as if on the precipice, and he rubbed circles into Robb’s back, hips and thighs with his hands. He rubbed his way to Robb’s cock and fisted his palm around it. His hand moved, squeezing up, sliding back, and Robb’s body jerked back into Theon’s cock.

“Oh fuck,” Theon said. His hand stilled, Robb’s cock still within it.

“Shit,” Robb cried out, tensing beneath Theon while the head of Theon’s cock breached centimeters into his ass. “Fuck, fuck.”

Theon moved.

“No, you dumb fuck—don’t move.” Robb tried to take deep breaths while Theon tried to stay still. Robb knew it was probably difficult; he could feel Theon throbbing just outside of him but there was a cock impaling his ass.

Theon let go of Robb’s cock and Robb could feel it turn softer under the pain. Not completely limp but enough. That was all right. For right now that was all right.

“Okay,” Robb said. “Okay. Go slow.” And he tried to relax, tried not to tense as Theon maneuvered and pushed.

He could feel his body give away. There was still a ridiculous amount of pain but there was also the sensation of being filled. An long, but thick cock, was pushing into him, rocking into him. He could feel every move within him, could feel it reverberate inside of him. Theon would thrust and Robb’s body opened to him. Theon would pull back and Robb’s body would close and clamp around the parting cock.

If he thought of it that way—if he focused on the movement—he didn’t feel the pain as much. Theon was fucking his ass—going slow, pushing and pulling tenderly so as not to hurt him. That was really kind but, once his body relaxed to the movement, it wasn’t doing much for Robb.

“Go deeper,” Robb heard himself say and Theon didn’t question him.

The feel of Theon’s pubic hair scratching his ass didn’t faze Robb in the least. He probably wouldn’t even remember it. But having all of Theon’s cock inside of him, feeling it pulse inside of him, he’d fucking always remember that.

“Now go harder,” he said, knowing he meant it.

Theon grunted in approval and pulled back, almost completely withdrawing. There was nothing to compare to this. Even if he lived to fuck a dozen dude’s asses—which he wouldn’t because, hello, so not gay except for Robb—Robb’s was the first. Only. Robb’s was the only.

The small cheeks squeezed around his cock as he pushed into them. His hands gripped Robb’s hips, his fingers dug and felt the flesh meet bone, and he thrust his cock deep into Robb’s ass. The clap of skin meeting skin thundered and mingled with their moans.

He leaned over Robb, caught Robb’s cock into his hand and found it had grown hard again. Harder than it had been. He remembered the feel of it in his mouth, the taste of it in his mouth. The memory threw his thrusts into overdrive.

His hand readjusted around Robb’s cock and matched the pounding rhythm of his cock in Robb’s ass. In, out, up, down—it was a frenzy of fist and hips. Sweat beaded over their bodies, their mouths opened wide in heavy gasps of air. In, out, up, down.

Soon they both panted with the effort, both reached one hand out for support. Robb pushed back toward Theon, aching but wanting Theon further inside of him. His head hung down. Low enough, sometimes, that he would try to open his eyes to watch Theon’s hand around his cock. It was something, watching his dick disappear in and out of Theon’s hand, knowing that Theon’s cock was also disappearing in and out of his ass.

He could feel it, his balls lifting from the strain, lifting from the stroke of Theon’s hand. It was going to be soon. He started to rock his hips arching his back, matching as best he could to Theon’s movements, fucking Theon with his ass, fucking himself in Theon’s hand. It was there. It was boiling and rising and it was  _there_.

“Fuck, Theon—“ Robb managed. “So close. I’m so fucking close.” He felt Theon start to slow down but his thrusts were harder. “No, no—go faster, go faster, you prick.”

He braced himself as best he could as he pushed back harder, faster. He forced Theon to the speed he needed and fucked himself like that. He fucked Theon like that.

“Robb” Theon said. “Oh—“ and he felt himself start to shudder. Felt his balls tighten. Felt his cock tighten. And he stilled.

Robb’s ass squeezed him and held. He tried to fuck Robb’s cock with his hand as fast as he could. A furious pumping that made his hips move despite trying to hold still.

It only took one twitch of Robb—one large twitch of his hand—and Theon started bucking again. He rammed his cock as deep as it would go, as hard as he could, into Robb’s ass. When Robb screamed in pleasure, Theon moaned. When Robb pushed, Theon pumped. And when Robb came on his hand, Theon came in Robb’s ass.


	4. Renly/Loras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras is Snow White?

> Prince Renly stared in shock at the young man in the glass coffin. Around him a mournful circle stood seven little men, standing guard over their precious treasure.

A sob escaped Renly’s throat. He truly was precious, the most precious person of all. How could he be dead?

One of the seven little men turned to look at him. "We mourn with you Prince Renly"

"Would you like to come closer? To see him better?" Another asked kindly, opening the circle kindly to let him in.

"Please" Renly whispered. He looked down at the man he'd fallen so in love with just a year prior. Had it only been a year? ‘ _For what might have been’_ it felt as though he'd loved him forever. _‘For what never was’_ Renly wished he'd said something - wished he'd done something to keep him safe. _‘For a lifelong lived’_ Then, maybe, his love would still be alive. _‘For a love half given’_ he sobbed.

 

Somehow, despite knowing that the young man had been dead for over a week, he still looked as though he slept. The little men quietly informed him that his lifelike appearance was why they kept him in a glass coffin.

"We couldn't bear to put something so lovely into the black of earth," they explained.

"May I take him home with me?" Renly begged the little men. "I — I don't think I could live without seeing him. He's my everything. Even now."

Although they were reluctant at first, they recognized the grief in the prince's eyes. Renly thanked them and tried to pay them for their kindness. They, unsurprisingly, refused.

"Just promise to take the best possible care with him" one of them said.

Renly pulled away with the coffin in a cart behind his servants, he watched the little men wander off, utterly despondent.

While on the long road home, Renly gave in to one of his desires, and opened the coffin to peer at his beloved directly. He leaned in close, face next to his darling's, hoping to engrave as much of his lovely visage into his memory as possible.

A soft stirring of air brushed Renly's cheek. At first, he wanted to believe that it was the wind, but after cupping his hands around the lovely young man's mouth and holding his own breath, Renly could say with utter certainty that this young man was still alive, however slightly.

He grinned. Some life was infinitely better than no life, and he knew just the witch to heal him.

"Harria!" Prince Renly pounded on the witch's door, impatient and worried that waiting too long would steal his hope from him. "Harria, this is your Prince. I need your assistance immediately!"

The wooden door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, hands on her wide hips.

"What is so damn important that it can't wait three minutes?"

"I found him," Renly rushed to explain. "My darling, my beloved, my Rose. He's alive, but I don't know how to wake him" He knew he sounded desperate, but his desperation was very real, Renly didn’t care.

"Bring him to me." Harria spoke with authority, and Renly grinned at her before ordering the servants to bring in the glass coffin.

For several excruciating minutes, Harria just examined the man in the coffin. His face was pale, but it was always pale, and at least his cheeks held a slight blush. His lips had always been alarmingly red, and his honey nut curls was as soft as ever. This man was definitely alive, but he had some sort of evil enchantment on him.

She reached for a few powders and vials, trying various things on him. Renly watched with fascination and hope. If anyone could help him, Harria could.

"I've got it," she pronounced, three hours later.

"What is it? Can you cure him?" Renly begged like a child, but Harria understood.

"No," she said slowly, perversely enjoying the way Renly's face fell. "But you can."

The prince's face snapped up, black hair settling haphazardly around his face. "Me? But how? I don't know any magic."

"You don't have to. The magic is on him. Here," she grabbed a slim volume from her shelf and handed it to him. "On the twenty-fifth page of that book, you'll find the way to break his curse. But don't do it here. Take him to your chambers in the palace — don't worry, he'll keep — and be sure to do whatever the book says."

"Thank you, Harria. Thank you so much. What do I owe you?" He reached for her hand, but drew back quickly at the venomous look he got.

After the price was settled, with Renly paying half again what she asked, they left for his palace.

"One last thing," Harria had said, just as they were leaving. "I would suggest waiting until you get into your chambers to read the book. Trust me."

Of course Renly trusted her, so he kept the book clutched in his hand for the rest of the ride home.

 

***

 

Once he got to his chambers, with the the servants dismissed, Loras lying like an angel in his coffin, and his boots exchanged for slippers, Renly understood why she'd warned him about reading the book. Green eyes wide, Renly looked from the descriptions in the book, to Loras, then back, face getting more and more heated.

He made sure to read all the instructions, and then walked over to Loras. It wasn't like it was something distasteful to him, except for maybe that one part, and possibly that other part, but he was worried what Loras would say when he woke up. Renly hoped he would forgive him for what he was about to do.

"Please don't hate me," Renly whispered, before leaning down to kiss Loras’ mouth. At first, it felt odd to be kissing someone so still, but then the realization of just who he was kissing sank in, and Renly gripped the lax shoulders tightly.

Just as the book had said, his beloved began to respond to the kiss, although his eyes didn't open. When Renly snuck his tongue into Loras’ mouth, he moaned, and felt a gasp of breath from the mouth under his. For what felt like hours, he stayed at Loras’ lips, sucking on them, biting them, and enjoying the sensation of having them under his own. They were so soft, and yet so firm as Loras began to awaken.

The next part involved taking off Loras’ shirt. When he had the garment pulled away and Loras lying back on his coffin, he made a decision. In light of all the things the book said to do, he and Loras would both be more comfortable on the bed. He moved his heart to his bed, and shivered at the sight of Loras’ perfect skin against his own silky sheets.

"Beautiful," he whispered, tracing his fingers over Loras’ torso. He kissed Loras again, feeling the young man respond, and then began to press lightly sucking kisses into Loras’ jaw. His skin tasted abundantly good, and he couldn't repress the gasps of want that each slide of his tongue elicited.

He spent long moments at Loras’ neck, took time to caress his ears with a careful tongue, and then moved a little lower. The shape of Loras’ clavicle felt amazing under his wandering lips, and he paused before the next instruction.

Looking up at Loras’ face, feeling the way he was beginning to pant for breath, Renly carefully licked at one of the pink nipples before him. Loras’ gasped loudly at that, but still didn't open his eyes. Pleased, Renly did it again, harder. Every swipe of his tongue and brush of his lips across Loras’ nipples made the young man beneath him gasp.

Then Renly applied teeth.

"Ohhh" a low moan escaped Loras’ red, rosy lips, and Renly felt Loras’ still-covered manhood stirring against his thigh. Renly had to do it again.

When he was fairly sure that Loras was completely erect, he continued on a downward path, working towards Loras’ pants.

At Loras’ belly button, Renly had another task to complete. He flicked his tongue into the dip, and then sucked around it. His rose whimpered, then slurred.

"Prince Renly?"

He sounded shocked, but not unhappy. His eyes, which were the most incredible shade of bright hazel brown, were staring back at Renly.

Renly slid up to Loras’ mouth, fingers unable to keep away from the nipples that had given both of them such pleasure. He watched as Loras’ eyelids flickered at the sensation. He thought he would die if he didn't kiss Loras then, so he did.

After several long passionate kisses, this had both of them breathing heavy, Renly backed off.

"My rose. I'm so sorry for doing all of this to you without asking, but it's what I have to do to break the curse." He kissed Loras again, tenderly this time, to further convey his apology.

"S'okay," Loras slurred against his lips. "I like your kisses."

Renly considered telling him that they had to do a hell of a lot more than kiss, but his darling was so innocent that he couldn't bear it.

"There's more I have to do," he admitted, "to fully break the curse. Once it's broken, I promise you never have to do any of it again if you don't want to."

Loras made a sound of agreement, and Renly went back to the adorable belly button. Even though he'd awakened Loras already, he couldn't help but spend a few more moments licking into it and sucking around it.

Then, slowly but carefully, Renly worked his way down the sparse line of hair from Loras’ belly button to his pants. While he kissed and licked there, he also worked on sliding Loras’ pants off.

"Ren?" Loras sounded shocked, and little resistant, but Renly couldn't stop now. He had to finish breaking the curse.

"I'm sorry, my love. I have to do this." He continued pulling Loras’ breeches and smallclothes off, and just stared at the flushed erection in front of him. Loras made a soft sound of protest, but Renly barely heard it over the pounding of blood in his ears and the ache in his heavy cock.

"Beautiful," he whispered again. He'd been worried about this part, but now he knew it would be no problem. The cock in front of him was just as beautiful as its owner. He trailed his fingers over the base of it lightly, relishing Loras’ sharp gasp.

"What are you doing, Prince Renly?" Loras sounded unsure of himself, as though he was on the brink of refusing, and Renly knew that he wouldn't be able to bear hearing those words.

Instead of answering, Renly took Loras’ cock in a firm but forgiving grasp. He worked his hand slowly up to the head, swiped a finger across the moisture gathering at the slit, then back down. Whenever Loras would open his mouth to say something, probably a protest, Renly would work his hand another way.

This, however, wasn't all that the book called for. The next part would probably earn Renly Loras’ hatred, but he had to do it.

"Loras" Renly whispered, leaning up to press kisses into that pale neck while he continued to stroke Loras’ cock. "I love you." Then he bent over and took the head of Loras’ manhood into his mouth.

"Ren!" Loras nearly yelled, and then he brought his hands up to press against Renly's face. "Hold on, Ren. Wait, please," he begged, trying to use his hands to pull Renly off of his cock.

Unwillingly, but knowing that the purpose for putting his mouth there to begin with was accomplished, Renly let Loras draw him up. He backed away from Loras then, knowing what was next. He wasn't sure if he was happy with it.

"Loras, I am so sorry. I know this is not what you want," it hurt him to admit. "But I promise there is only one more part before the spell is broken. Then you may dress and leave, and you never have to speak to me again."

Loras looked uncomfortable. His cock remained flushed and full, the tip, still covered in Renly's saliva, left damp trails on Loras’ stomach, underneath that belly button.

"I don't know if I'll never want to speak to you again," he admitted slowly. "It's just embarrassing. You putting your mouth there. It's dirty."

"It's you," Renly told him fiercely, lunging up to claim Loras’ red lips in a brutal kiss. To his joy, he felt Loras responding with the same vigor. "Nothing about you could ever be dirty."

When they were both red-mouthed from kissing, Loras looked down at his own erection. He struggled, but Renly could tell that whatever he wanted to accomplish, it wasn't happening for him.

"What is it, my love?" Renly murmured into Loras’ ear.

Loras shuddered at the feeling. "I still can't move my legs."

"I know," Renly admitted slowly. "There are a couple of things left. First of all, can you feel them?" As he asked, he trailed a hand across Loras’ thighs, brushing inside next to his balls.

Loras’ whimper was answer enough. "That's good. The last part to break the curse in the short term is next."

"Short term?" Loras sounded afraid.

Renly felt his face begin to blush. "Yes, well, I've been following all the instructions in Harria's book. But if I do the last part, the curse will be forever broken."

"There's something before the last part, too?"

"Yes. Something that will give you your legs back." He didn't say what those things were. Thinking about them was mortifying. He wasn't sure how he would do them.

Instead of telling Loras anything else, he moved down the bed. Knowing that Loras would shortly recover the use of his legs, Renly made sure to pin his pale thighs snugly where he pressed them apart. Then, just because the skin on his inner thighs was so soft and so pale, and looked like fresh cream on a spring day, Renly had to taste. He sucked wet kisses into the skin there, loving the shocked sounds that Loras couldn't keep back.

Then he used his thumbs to draw the skin of Loras’ perfect cheeks apart, revealing a rosy treasure.

"Ren?" Loras sounded alarmed, his pale fingers reaching to pull Renly up and away from that intimate place, but Renly was determined. He would break the spell and keep Loras’ alive. And, a dark part of himself that he'd tried to ignore for so long when it came to Loras, he would very much enjoy doing it.

Instead of responding verbally to Loras’ increasingly alarmed pleas, Renly blew a cool stream of air onto Loras’ tight little hole. Loras’ upper body jerked as he cried out, and Renly could see the way the pink muscles twitched. Sticking a finger into his own mouth and getting it wet, Renly pressed around the muscle, watching with fascination as it twitched

"You're beautiful here too" Renly informed him. Then he pressed into the ring of muscle. It was tight, tighter than Renly expected, and he wondered how in the world was he supposed to complete breaking the spell. There was no way his cock, which was much, much thicker than his finger, would fit in that tiny place.

Remembering the orders in the book, Renly leaned close and swiped his tongue across Loras’ hole. Distantly, he heard Loras cry out, but he didn't sound too distressed, so he did it again. As he continued to lathe the hole with his tongue, eventually working up to thrusting inside of it, he felt Loras’ thighs begin to strain against his hands. He knew that he didn't have to keep going really, but he wanted to. He wanted to make Loras come apart, to break into a million pieces just from the force of Renly’s tongue. From the sounds of it, it wouldn't be long.

"Ren, please, what are you doing to me?" Loras sounded broken, but not unhappy.

Making himself leave off from teasing the intoxicating little hole, Renly crawled up Loras’ body, but left his fingers brushing against the slick place.

"I love you," Renly told Loras seriously. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wanted to make love to you before this, but please believe me that I'd never planned on doing it without you wanting it too." He rested his forehead against Loras’, eyes wide open. Loras smiled at him.

"I have wondered," Loras admitted, high spots of color blooming on his pale cheeks, "what it would be like. For you and I to…" He blushed more severely, the color flooding his face and beginning to spill down his neck. When he turned his face away, Renly brought his left hand up to grasp his chin, forcing him to meet the Prince's green eyes.

"Do you want to?" Renly knew he would have to do this, no matter what Loras’ answer was. He would rather lose Loras companionship and trust than see him die. But if Loras did decide to hate him and never want to see him again after this, Renly knew he would never be happy again.

"Is it as nice as the things you've done so far?" Loras’ voice was small and shy, but Renly could feel the hot, damp press of his pretty manhood against his stomach.

"Oh yes," Renly answered, beaming. As Loras gazed shyly back into Renly's eyes, Renly pressed his middle finger, which had been still against Loras’ slick rim, into that hot, tight place. He kept his other hand firm against Loras’ face, reveling in the look of surprise on his beloved's face.

"That feels," Loras gasped, swallowed, and then tried again. "It's odd. But not bad...I don't know," he tried to shake his head, and Renly felt his muscles twitching against the intrusion. Renly knew how to make it more than not bad. Seeking with his finger, he pressed high and in, rubbing Loras’ soft taint at the same time.

"Ren" Loras cried out in pleasure, eyes closing tight, cock twitching, and inner muscles spasming.

"So good, Loras" Renly murmured. "You're so good at this." He slipped a second finger alongside the first, seeking that magical place again. Once more, he had Loras writhing, tears making his eyelashes glisten, as his tight young body was overwhelmed. All at once, Renly pulled his fingers out and reached for the bottle of oil he kept near his bed.

Loras whined at the loss of contact, writhing and stretching. "Why'd you stop?" He pouted, red rosy mouth giving Renly evil ideas. Later, he promised himself, then clutched the bottom of his own cock with one hand while he slicked up with the other.

"I'm going to go inside of you," Renly explained. "And I want it to be so smooth and wet, so you don't feel anything bad." The fingers on both of his hands glistened with oil, and as he pressed his fingers deep inside his rose again, he used the other hand to pull lazily at Loras’ own prick.

The noises Loras made were attempting to be words, but every time he would come close to coherency, Renly would brush his thumb under the red crown of Loras’ dick or press insistently into that intimate place inside of him. Finally, Loras managed, "Please, Ren, please." He didn't know what he was begging for, but Renly had to grasp the base of his cock again to keep himself in check.

"Whatever you want, love," he promised, lining himself up and sliding inside. All the stretching and teasing had left Loras loose enough that, although the press in was still a heating tightness.

When his hips snugged against Loras’ soft arse, he paused, making sure that Loras wasn't in too much pain. "Loras? Are you okay?"

Loras answered back in moans of pleasure and pain, writhing. Renly gripped his hips sharply, stopping the motion so he wouldn't be tempted to take, take, and take.

"Do something, please, Ren. It's good, but it's…" Loras gasped, shaking his head to try to clear it. "I need something!"

Renly leaned down to press a soft kiss at the corner of Loras’ mouth. Then he sat back up, and pulled out, just a little, before sliding back into the hotness of his rose. Loras’ face was like a revelation, clearing slowly and revealing pleasure, more with every increasingly powerful thrust.

By the time Renly was pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, holding Loras’ milky white thighs up so he was pounding at exactly the right angle, the boy was mewling and gasping constantly. Renly grabbed one of Loras’ hands, making him hold his own thigh so he could reach down and tug at Loras’ weeping neglected cock.

"So beautiful, my love," Renly gasped. "Beautiful, wonderful, strong and mine," he gritted out, slamming in with every endearment.

"Ren!" Loras keened, throwing his head back as his pleasure came all over himself and Renly's tugging hand. All hope Renly had of keeping a rhythm flew out the window at that and, within a half a dozen violent thrusts, he spilled inside of his beloved.

For long moments, they stayed that way, Renly slumped against Loras, both gasping for air until Renly had the piece of mind to stop crushing his love. Loras gasped as Renly pulled out, but soothed under his tender kisses.

"Was that as good as you'd thought it would be?" Renly asked, fingers brushing sweat-drenched hair from Loras’ brow.

Loras snuggled into Renly. "I didn't know anything could be that good" he admitted. "Is it always like that?"

Renly snorted, "No. But I've heard that, with practice it can get better. You know, over the course of many years of trial and error." He watched Loras face carefully.

Of course Loras grinned. "Well, the maesters always told me it's never too soon to start practicing for anything. Mayhaps in a little while? I mean, we've got years and years ahead of us, but I don't want to procrastinate."

"In a little while," Renly agreed relief nearly palpable as it settled on his smile. "I really do love you, Loras"

"Of course you do" Loras told him, patting his chest as he snuggled in close. "I love you Renly"


	5. Satin/Theon

__Theon Greyjoy, Satin decides as he makes his way into the overly expensive hotel room, is just the kind of douchebag who would pick up a prostitute.

            He’s kind of surprised said prostitute is  _him_ , though. Given his experiences in high school, when Theon spent all his time with Robb Stark (a beautiful, soft, brilliant redhead who was always far too good for Theon and who, to the best of Satin’s knowledge, is _still_ in an off and on relationship with Theon) Satin would have expected Theon to pick up one of the classier female prostitutes, all leather and fishnets and empty eyes that the steves ignored, so they can sleep at night. Or, at least, he could have picked up Jeyne, the mousy little thing who whores on the side to keep herself in seizure meds, and who Satin has established a bit of a friendship with.

            It works out, he and Jeyne working the same corner, because their targets are so radically different. Jeyne may be a little shy and sickly, but she’s got killer curves and can work a dangerous smile when she wants to. Satin, on the other hand, is all tall and angular and boyish, looking far younger than his age. Jeyne attracts the typical jons, the married men whose wives won’t put out anymore, the old perverts who can’t get a woman to sleep with them without paying, and the frat boys looking for some fun.

            Satin, on the other hand, gets the closet cases, the guys who will hold him down and whisper  _faggot_  at him to distract from the fact that they have their dick in his ass, the wannabe pedophiles.

            That’s why, when a sleek little Lambo stopped near their corner that night, Satin had been fully prepared for the guy to proposition Jeyne. Lambos meant a textbook middle aged married guy, probably stuck at a dead end job and with a bunch of kids he hadn’t really wanted, and Satin’s got nothing to offer that type of jon.

            Satin had been sealing his own deal, sidling up to some clearly virginal teenager who could barely look at him without stuttering. He always did like having the virgins, because it meant he could be in control, a rarity, for his line of work. He’d just explained his rates to the wide eyed kid (faking a British accent, because hey, he’s a hooker, he has to get his kicks somehow), knocking off ten bucks because the kid clearly couldn’t afford him, but it’s not like he’d take long  _anyway_ , when he’d heard a strangely familiar voice call out “Satin?”

            It was like he was sixteen again in that moment, wearing long sleeved shirts and avoiding talking to anybody, in case they found out about his dad. Theon had been one of those bullies – rich and well dressed and popular, making everyone else feel inferior with just a little smirk. Really, Satin should have remembered that fucking car – He’d see Theon roar away in it, every day after Swim met, while Satin would walk home (dreading it the whole way, because the only reason awkward, lanky Satin was on the swim team in the first place was for an excuse to spend more time away from his parents).

            “What are you doing out here, Satin?” Theon had asked, after some sick impulse had caused Satin to abandon his virgin and approach the car (it reminded him of home, of Kings Landing and high school, of a time where, though it was far from ideal, he had it better than now, before the jons and the smack and the  _despair_ ).

            “Foster care didn’t suit me,” Satin says (the sarcasm only developed after his mother died, when he needed a coping mechanism for getting through the day, and no one would lock him in a cooler for being a little shit). “What are  _you_  doing out here, Greyjoy?”

            Theon had stayed silent for a moment, eyes searching Satin’s face, before he’d, very obviously, unlocked his car. “Get in.”

            Now, Satin follows him into the hotel room, shedding his jacket as he goes, and Satin doesn’t really  _want_ to sleep with him, but he also doesn’t want to starve to death, so.

            “How do you want me?” he asks. He feels like he should be shedding some clothing too, getting more comfortable, but he doesn’t have a jacket, relies on the sex and the smack to keep him warm.

            Theon’s eyes roam over Satin’s face, and his expression looks dangerously close to pity. Pity is one thing Satin can’t stand, so he elaborates, hoping to distract Theon. “Stomach? Back? Knees? What?”

            Theon speaks. “You never told me how much.” His voice sounds dead, guarded, and Satin wonders if he hadn’t misjudged Theon, if Theon isn’t exactly the type of jon to pick him. Satin tells him his rates (if he adds on a couple of zeros, eyeing Theon’s Rolex and the gold promise ring he hasn’t even bothered to take off his finger, no one will ever know) and Theon ponders for a moment before declaring “I want you to ride me.”

            Satin nods and doesn’t waste any time in removing his clothes. He can’t help but reflect on the fact that Theon must have seen him undressing a million times before, albeit not in expectation of sex. Satin had been clumsy then, his sixteen year old body not used to its long limbs.

            Even back in the locker room, Theon had possessed the body of a god, and Satin can’t pretend he’s not ogling a little as Theon removes his own clothes in time with Satin. After all, it’s not often he gets a good looking typical jon (old, hairy.)

            The controlling dick thing, though, is a little more par for the course, and it’s almost like following a script when Theon lies down on the bed, gloriously naked, cocking one eyebrow in challenge and giving his hard dick a little stroke.

            Satin is, if nothing else, fastidious about his own protection, so he remembers to take a condom out of his pocket before shedding his jeans entirely.

            As he walks over to where Theon is sprawled out, looking for all the world like a Greek God, like he hasn’t changed in the slightest since high school, Satin can feel his mind dissociating from his body. It’s a coping mechanism, like the smack and the sarcasm, keeps him from focusing on the horror of what he’s really doing.

            Keeps him from focusing on the fact that he’s a hooker who spent several years being abused by his dead father, and who is so deep in debt to his pimp that he’s never getting out alive.

            He rolls the condom over Theon’s dick, The condom’s already lubed, and he’s already fucked two other guys tonight, so he doesn’t waste any time in sinking down on Theon’s dick, not stopping until he’s taken it all.

            If Satin expected this to be any different from his other tricks, if he’d expected that he and Theon would have a connection based on their past, he’d be wrong.

            He bounces up and down on Theon’s dick, the feeling of it stretching his hole, causes Satin to let out a satisfied groan, adding his own fake and overblown moans and sighs of course to Theon’s decidedly real ones. Satin could feel the pulse of Theon inside of him, Theon obviously has experience in sex, and Satin finds himself wishing that he had gone with the virgin instead, because all he feels is numb and dirty, and if he’d gone with the virgin he’d be done already. Cock and balls bouncing on Theons stomach as he rides him.

            As it is, he just speeds up his hips, leaning backwards to grip Theon’s thighs, tips his head back, because he knows that typical jons sometimes get off to the sight of his stretched neck and hooded eyes.

            Theon’s no different, and he comes into the condom with a muffled curse after only a few more minutes.

            Satin climbs off and removes the condom from Theon, tying it off and tossing it in a trash can absently. He’s hard, because Theon had been hitting his prostate straight on while they had sex, and he’s only human, but he doesn’t feel like doing anything about it, because all he can think about is how this money that Theon’s going to give him will buy him his next hit of smack. It’s as though he can already feel the drug running through his veins, making his shitty life a little more bearable, and he can’t even bring himself to care that Theon has taken him miles away from his corner.

            Theon seems to have grown some decency in the years since high school, though, because after he catches his breath, dresses again, and counts the bills into Satin’s outstretched hand, he offers to drive Satin back.

            High school Satin would have refused, would have heard his dad’s voice in his head telling him not to be a burden, but prostitute Satin doesn’t care, just sees Theon as his ride back to his corner, back to the dealer that’s less than a five minute walk away.

            As Satin leans his head against the passenger window of Theon’s lambo, barely noticing the heavy and almost guilty silence between them, all he can think is that he can’t wait to tell Jeyne about this.

            He’s pretty sure she’s close to quitting her day job and signing on with his pimp, anyway.


	6. Theon/Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry i haven't uploaded in a few days! Here's two chapters to make up for it! and dont forget to suggest more parrings :)

Once upon a time, in a land far, far from here, there lived a Prince named Theon. He was quite lonely, this Prince, living in his big castle with only his mother and his dog for company. When he discussed this with his mother she looked at him, and smiled.

"I have been waiting, my son," she said in upbeat tones, "For you to finally come to me! I have the perfect plan! We'll find you a wife."

And so it happened that the next Tuesday, when it was sunny and bright, the prince was decked out in his finest suits and had put on his finest shoes, had his hair combed and his face washed, and was ready to meet a Girl. She was pretty, he supposed, and pleasant enough, and so he talked a little and she talked a lot and when she went home, he told his mother that no, he would not like to meet her next Tuesday, if she wouldn't mind.

The Tuesday after that, a cloudy Tuesday that honestly wasn’t very notable, his mother decked him out in his finest suits and had him put on his finest shoes, and she combed his hair and washed his face, and he met a Girl. She was a different Girl from the one before, the daughter of a friend of a cousin of a neighbour, and he talked a little, and she didn’t talk at all, and in the end they both agreed that they had no desire to meet once more. It was the only thing she actually spoke to say.

After that came a Tuesday that was rainy and miserable, and the Prince simply wanted to roll up in front of the fireplace in his nice comfy clothes, read a book maybe, or knit for a bit, but despite the weather and despite what he might’ve wanted, his mother made him deck out in his finest suits and put on his finest shoes, and she had him comb his hair and wash his face, and come down to the dining-hall to meet a Girl. Easy to say, he was not amused. So she talked a little and he didn’t talk at all, and she left in a huff and really? That was fine by him.

The storm died down and left mist in its wake, and the Tuesday after that, while he decked himself out in his finest suits and put on his finest shoes, while he combed his hair and washed his face, no one showed up and he was quite content with that, too.

As Tuesday came around once more, he stood decked out in his finest suits, his finest shoes put on and his hair combed and face washed and waited for the daughter of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend and she did come, and he talked a little and she asked him if he had any brains at all and left it at that.

The Tuesday after that, his mother kicked him out. She told him to go find a tower or something, safe a princess and marry her for the love of god, because she was out of options and honestly, she couldn’t blame the Girls because no Girl would want to marry the idiot that was her son unless they were truly desperate.

He was quite relieved there was no other Girl coming.

Theon did find a tower, and the tower had a Girl in it as well. She turned out to be a princess to booth and he figured that his mother would be quite content with that. So he found himself a rope behind the tower, and he managed to get it up to the one window of the tower in some way or other, and called for her to come on down.

“I cannot,” she called back, sounding truly desperate (which was good, as his mother had told him to look for a desperate Girl), “I would not dare for it is too high! Please, dear sir, could you come up and safe me from this peril?”

He sighed and thought not for the first time on how bothersome Girls were, and how tiresome Girls were, and slowly started climbing up. Once there, he found the Girl, laying on her bed quite still, and feigning sleep.

He stood there for a while, trying to remember what his books during prince-school had said on situations like this. He was pretty sure they’d mentioned something about this kind of situation, but what it was, he could hardly remember. All he did remember was that he’d been a lot more interested in looking at Prince Charming two rows ahead at a table to the side than his lecturers at the time.

Finally, after thinking some more and applying some common sense, he decided to shake her shoulder.

It didn’t work.

He shook a little harder, and when that didn’t work, a little harder than that. When that didn’t work either, he decided to call her name, but realized quite quickly that calling someone’s name is rather hard when one doesn’t know what name to call. Finally, he settled for slapping her face.

'Thank god, she opened her eyes,' he thought, and then all he thought was ‘auch!’ for this Girl apparently had a mean right hook.

“You lousy excuse for a prince!” the Girl called out as she jumped off the bed, “What happened to the good old traditional kiss on the lips routine? See if I marry a loser like you!” And with that, she climbed out of the window, poofy skirts and all, slid off the rope quite nimbly for someone fearing heights so much, and as she strolled away, she took the rope with her.

Prince Theon walked over to the window, looked down and instantly pulled back. It was… Quite a way down. Too far to jump, at the very least. Sighing, he sat back on the bed. After some consideration, he sighed again, laid back, and nodded off in a nice afternoon-nap.

Now not so far away, but in another kingdom entirely, Prince Robb had just gone off on a Quest Of Great Importance. He was to bring his sister lunch. She was stuck in a tower, waiting for her One True Beloved to free her and make her his wife and queen.

So he rode and he rode, far and long, over fields and mountains, through streams and meadows, by dark forests and deep caves – about half an hour, all together – until he reached the tower she lived in. He went round the back, meant to take the rope, but found it was not there.

'This is odd,' he thought, 'How can the rope not be there? It was here just this morning!' Then Prince Robb shrugged, hit the right rock to open the passage-way into the tower and started climbing the stairs, basket with lunch in tow.

Upstairs, he found, to his surprise, not his sister, impatiently demanding her lunch, but a strange man. He was asleep on the pretty pink and frilly bed his parents had bought his sister for just this occasion and that she didn’t seem to appreciate in the least, and snoring just a little.

He looked at the man once, then looked at him twice and once again, and tried to recall his prince-classes a few years back.

_What to do when finding a strange man in your sister’s bed_

_You wake the stranger by slapping your glove in his face and challenge him to a duel to the death. The honor of your family is at stake and it will not do to let him soil your sisters name for then no man will have her as his wedded wife._

 

Somehow, he thought that this rule only applied when his sister was in bed  _with_  the stranger, which was not the case right now. Besides, he didn’t have a glove, so it was quite useless anyway. With some difficulty, he tried to recall any other of the wise lessons of his prince-teacher.

 

_What to do when finding a prince already in the tower once you get there_

_You look whether the princess is worth saving enough to risk your life for. If she is especially pretty or especially rich enough, you challenge the other prince to a duel to the death. Your honor as a prince and the hand of the princess in marriage are at stake. If she isn’t really, really_ _,_ _really worth it, you quietly slip away and go in search of another princess._

Well, there wasn’t much of a princess here to challenge the Prince over, Prince Robb figured, and besides, even if the princess in residence had still been in, he didn’t really feel like challenging anyone over his sister. They could have her, for all he cared.

And thus he tried to think back, and finally, after staring at the man for quite a while, one of the first lessons of his first year in prince-school popped into his head.

_What to do when finding a sleeping damsel in distress in a tower?_

_One bows over her graciously and lays a soft kiss on her lips. She will wake and look at you with misty eyes. “My prince,” she will exclaim, and kiss you back. You will carry her out of the tower and to your noble stallion, and then you will ride the both of you to your castle and make her your wedded wife. You will be together ever after._

  1. _Do make sure that she is of pleasant disposition, rich, and looks beautiful before doing so._



He looked at the stranger this way and that, and this way again, and shrugged. He was pretty sure damsels were supposed to be female, at least, but then again, you never knew. There was an exception to every rule and this might just as well be one. He also didn’t know much about the man’s disposition, but he was beautiful enough… He might as well give it a shot. After all, what did he have to lose?

So Prince Robb bowed over the Prince, as gracefully as he could manage while trying not to fall right on top of the other – he was pretty sure falling over the damsel was not a Romantic Thing to Do - and pressed his lips lightly to the Prince’s.

Prince Theon had been having quite a nice dream when suddenly, something woke him up. When he opened his eyes, he looked straight into a face. A very male face, features taut in concentration, and with the foreign feeling of lips on his.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but the Other prince, who’d kissed his fair share of princesses in his while but never really felt like keeping any of them around for long, recognized at least something familiar; when the person you’re kissing opens their mouth, it’s a clear sign they want you to shove your tongue in.

So he did.

Suddenly, the Prince found he couldn’t ask much of anything. He also found that he rather liked the feeling.

When the Other Prince came up for air, he watched the bedazzled face beneath him and grinned. Yep, definitely did the right thing. Without a second thought, he scooped up the Prince in his arms and started carrying him off the stairs. The basket and lunch lay forgotten on the bed. And rode off into the sunset

And they lived happily ever after. Mostly.

The end


	7. Renly/Loras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras is a stuck up brat

"This place is disgusting." Loras said as soon as he walked into the restaurant. Renly rolled his eyes. Of course Loras (and most people despite Renly's opinion) would think that. Just because the restaurant wasn't lit very well and had dirt in a few places didn't mean it was a bad place. It was one of his favorite places in the city and he had hoped that Loras would love it- he had hoped foolishly. "Why did you bring me here?" 

"Because you were hungry." 

"I wanted to go to the mall or something- not this." Loras’ voice was as cold as it always was but it was tinged with distaste. 

"It's my favorite place; I talk about it all the time. You remember, right?"

"I didn't imagine it would be like this." 

"I think it's nice."

"Nice is one word. Not the right one but one." Renly sighed and walked to a booth, sliding in. Loras laid his sweater down on the seat opposite Renly before sitting down. 

"Do you have to be a jerk?"

"I don't want to catch anything from a seat that isn't sanitary." 

"Stop it."

"Did this place pass any health inspections?"

"It wouldn't be opened if it didn't." 

"There is such a thing as bribery." Loras picked up a menu and inspected it carefully, narrowing his eyes occasionally. 

"See anything you like?" 

"I don't like greasy food and all of this is deep fried."

"Loras I saw you eat fries a week ago." 

"Those weren't greasy." 

"How do you know these will be greasy?"

"You described this place as greasy and disgusting but great, Renly. I think I'm good." 

"I'm getting onion rings." 

"Don't expect me to eat any." 

"I didn't." A waitress came and took their order before leaving promptly, probably because of Loras scrutinizing gaze. "You don't have to scare people."

"I don't intend to."

"You need to loosen up a little and stop being so stiff." Loras’ eyes hardened and he inspected his fingernails before saying anything else. 

"If you want me to stop being so 'stiff', loosen me up."

Loras braced himself on the wall, determined not to let his face touch the grimy tile. He could practically see the bacteria swimming around but he didn't say a thing. Renly had his hand across his mouth and was pounding into him hard. Loras was always a controlled person but when it came to things like this he had a difficult time keeping his composure. With the excitement of having sex in public eating at him he found it difficult to reign himself in. He bit Renly's finger slightly and made the man groan into the nape of his neck. 

"Fuck Loras" Loras shifted his hips back and forth to make the slide in easier, reveling in the sweet feeling he got from having Renly so close. He was a cold man by definition but when it came to Renly, he had a weak spot. "Baby keep it up." He began to shift faster, using all of his muscles to keep Renly from thrusting. He rode him carefully and drank in Renly's soft grunts of pleasure. It turned him on to see Renly getting off on his body alone. 

Renly removed the hand from his mouth and Loras sucked in a sharp breath. 

"Faster." Renly practically demanded and Loras, for once, obeyed. He moved faster and closed his eyes, leaning his head back slightly and letting his lips part. Despite what people thought he did feel pleasure, he was not stone. Renly always managed to touch him somewhere new every time and make him wonder why he hadn't found him earlier. "Yes." Renly grunted and pushed him up against the tile. Loras cringed but refused to let his disgust ruin the moment. 

"Come on me." He commanded and loosened his hold. Renly pulled out and grabbed his cock, jerking it twice before coming on Loras’ back. He could feel the substance dampening his pants but didn't really care. Renly sank to his knees with a thud and parted his cheeks with skilled hands, shoving his tongue into him. He ate him out with eagerness that wasn't parallel to anything he'd ever experienced. He smalled his fist against the wall and with a flick of Renly's tongue, he came. Renly helped him pull up his pants and did up his belt before cleaning himself up. 

The two of them waited a few minutes before walking out of the bathroom together. He could feel people's eyes on him but he held his head up high and walked back to their booth where a plate of onion rings sat in the middle of the table. He flopped down and grabbed the plate, shoving them into his mouth two by two. 

"This is why I love you." Renly said fondly. 


	8. Rickon/Tommen

The best thing about Tommen, Rickon thinks, is that he does as he's told.

See, Rickon found some stuff he wants to try out, leaving him with no-one to try it out _with_. He's not close enough friends with anyone else to ask them, and sadly it's not something an ingeniously-crafted vibrator can mimic.

And then he sees the light in one of the rooms in the house across from his, and he gets an idea. He's not friends with Tommen by any means - barely knows him in fact - but maybe that's what he needs. He knows that Tommen's quiet, on the football team, and regularly gets yelled at and the shit kicked out of him by his dad, who doesn't come home until late on Wednesdays, He remembers an older sister – Myrcella or something - but she fucked off as soon as she got out of high school and Rickon hasn't seen her since. Not surprising on the outside, but having seen how protective she was of Tommen.

There was his mom too, but Rickon barely saw her. As far as Rickon’s concerned, he knows more than enough about Tommen. So, one Wednesday when Tommen's sitting on the porch doing what looks like homework, waiting for his dad to get back, Rickon is able to casually wander across the road and say, with perfect poise,

"So I was wondering if you'd be interested in rimming me," and Tommen actually _chokes_. Well, at least he doesn't have to ask if Tommen knows what rimming is. The question is largely formality - of course Tommen's going to be into Rickon, because _everyone_ 's into Rickon. He just needs to check that the ass-licking part is okay.

"Are you serious?" Tommen asks once he's got his breath back.

"Deadly." Tommen's looking at him like he thinks this is a joke, like he thinks Rickon is trying to make a fool of him. Which is probably fair, but not conducive to Rickon getting his ass licked. "C'mon, I'm serious. You want to, right?" Tommen blushes up to his _ears_. "So that's a yes, then. What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? A kiss? Because I'm not kissing you." He pauses. "Especially not after you've licked my ass."

Tommen chews his lip briefly, then drops his eyes and says,

"Fine. Where?"

Rickon has no idea what he's said to finally convince him, but he's not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

"My place." He turns around without waiting for Tommen to respond - and, as predicted, it only takes a couple of seconds for him to hear the sounds of Tommen scrambling up off the porch to follow him.

As soon as they get to Rickon's room, Rickon kicks off his shoes and strips off his shirt. Tommen hovers nervously in the doorway. Rickon gets off his pants and underwear and raises an eyebrow at him. He doesn't look like he's going to make the first move any time soon, or even take off his clothes, so Rickon sighs and takes him by the wrist to tow him towards the bed. Tommen's tall but skinny, his height advantage useless against Rickon's weight, and he goes without a fight. Like he's used to being dragged around.

Rickon decided days ago that the best way to do this is with him on his back - not as easy access as if he were on all fours, but he'll get more control. He quite likes the idea of yanking on Tommen's golden curls. So he lies down as gracefully as he can manage and gestures Tommen over. Tommen hesitantly settles himself on his stomach between Rickon's bent knees, propping himself up on his elbows as he awaits further instructions. Rickon rolls his eyes. Does he have to do _everything_ himself?

"What, you forgotten what we're doing here? Get on with it for god's sake." Tommen flinches a little, then hurriedly complies, placing his hands on Rickon's thighs and ducking to lick, rather shyly, first his perineum, then his ass. The delicate touch actually tickles a little, and Rickon is about to complain when Tommen continues by pressing his tongue against the hole more firmly. Better, Rickon thinks, and lets him get on with it.

It's still very tentative at first - ugh, he should have picked someone who wasn't a _total_ virgin - but when Rickon doesn't pull him away, Tommen gets bolder. Still licking around the hole, he lets his tongue start to catch on the rim. Hot sparks abruptly flare in Rickon's belly, and he takes a sharp breath. Tommen stills, tensing.

"Keep going," says Rickon. His voice is croakier than he'd like. But Tommen does, dragging his tongue over the hole harder and harder. It feels weirder the more Tommen's tongue presses inside him, but it also feels _good_. He's not gagging for it or anything, but his cock is hard against his stomach, twitching occasionally when Tommen licks a particularly good spot.

Then Tommen's tongue really starts to penetrate him, a good couple of centimeters slipping into his ass, and Rickon’s dick gets _very_ interested. He's fingered himself before, of course, and it was good, though too much effort to make every time he jerks off, but it couldn't have prepared him for this. Tommen's tongue is hot and wet and _mobile_ , and looked at objectively it's disgusting, but he's not thinking objectively anymore because he's got a _tongue in his ass_.

"Keep doing that," he says, his voice strained, and starts jerking his cock, two fingers and thumb moving the foreskin back and forth over the head. Tommen does as he's told, obviously happier now he's been given explicit directions. God, Rickon bets he could get Tommen to do anything - look how easy it was to get him here, licking Rickon's ass. Rickon hadn't even offered to get him off in return.

Rickon starts moving his hips, just a little, in tight circles, grinding his ass into Tommen's face, and Tommen's fingers dig harder into Rickon's thighs as he really goes for it, nose bumping Rickon's perineum. Rickon can't tell if he's enjoying it, per se, but for whatever reason he seems pretty enthusiastic. Rickon thinks he can feel his blunt, bitten-down fingernails pressing into his skin, and he likes it. He clenches his hands tight in the sheets, skin sparking with pleasure.

Rickon considers it a matter of courtesy not to come in Tommen's golden curls, it spatters in his hair anyway, hips rising and falling sharply, fucking his fist, Tommen clinging on the whole time.

Tommen stops licking, but Rickon has to tug firmly on his semen soaked curls before he comes up from between Rickon's thighs. His lips are red, and he looks slightly dazed. Judging by the way he's shifting around, he definitely enjoyed it.

Now, if at this point Tommen had suggested that Rickon engage in some kind of reciprocity, he's high enough on endorphins that he wouldn't object to giving an amiable hand job. It wouldn't be such a hardship. But Tommen stays silent, cuts his eyes to the side, and it's painfully obvious that he's awaiting his cue to go. So Rickon gives him it:

"You're better than I thought you'd be. The door's unlocked." Tommen all but flees the room, closing the door behind him. One of his long sleeves has ridden up, and Rickon sees a flash of a bruise on his forearm before he vanishes from sight.

Rickon listens to his unfamiliar footsteps on the stairs and wonders idly what's got him in such a hurry when his dad's not due back for another half-hour. But only briefly: he's got plans to make to hang out with Edric and impress Elinor Tyrell and generally have a life which doesn't involve Tommen at all.

That said, Tommen is at least usually in the background: someone Rickon is vaguely aware of, hanging around on the periphery. But for a fortnight afterwards, he's strangely aware that Tommen seems to have absented himself from Rickon's life: they don't have classes together, but they don't even pass in the hall. At practice, Tommen’s curly head and the back of a jersey, his face always turned away, like how small children do that thing like _I can't see you so you can't see me_. It's fucking weird, is what it is, but after a couple of weeks Tommen stops whatever freak-out he's been having, things go back to normal and Rickon stops thinking about him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do your opinions about this parring?!


	9. Theon/Robb

In the darkness, Theon realizes he’s not tired at all. It was well past lights out and yet Theon found he could not will himself to sleep as hard as he tried. So for the past, at least hour, he had been staring at the wall, well nothing really through the pitch black, listening to the soft sounds of his friends fast asleep. Oh, how he envied them.

There was a soft ticking of his alarm clocking cutting through the silence, seeming to taunt him as Theon continued to lie there. Desperate, he squeezed his eyes shut, snuggled further into his bunk, and started to count sheep. Counting sheep had never particularly worked for Theon but at this point considering he had to be up in 5 hours, he was willing to try anything.

He had gotten to sheep #42 when he decided to give up. Irritated, he flopped over in bed, and looked across the room to where he knew Robb was asleep in his lower bunk. In the darkness, he couldn’t technically see anything, but with the thought of Robb in a bed, an idea crept into Theon’s mind that he couldn’t shake and a smile formed on his lips.

It would be really risky… but also really hot. Thinking it over for another minute, Theon just decided _fuck it_ and shucked off his covers before slowly creeping down the ladder. He peering into the bunk below him to make sure Jon was really asleep before tip toeing across the room till he reached the edge of Robb’s bunk. He could just barely make out Robb’s form in the bed as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and he bit his lip, suddenly doubting himself.

Suddenly Robb groaned, shifting to face the wall and Theon felt excitement fill his stomach once more. He recognized _that_ groan. As quietly as he could, Theon slid himself into the bed behind Robb, feeling him stir at the movement.

He slid forward until he was pressed against Robb’s back, and knowing his boyfriend, slipped a hand over Robb’s mouth before he had the chance to say anything. Robb hummed low in curiosity under his hand, and tilted his head back to look at Theon through sleepy eyes.

Theon just grinned as he ran his hand down Robb’s side. He lightly skimmed at the skin along his low riding waist band in answer, before pulling away. Air puffed into his hand and Theon bit back a laugh. He spit into his hand before finally slipping it below the waist band of Robb’s sweat pants. Glad his boyfriend decided to sleep commando tonight, he easily grasped Robb’s half hard cock in his hand, squeezing his hand tighter around Robb’s mouth as a small gasp escaped from between his fingers.

“Shhh,” Theon whispered in Robb’s ear as loud as he dared, before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin just below.

He gently squeezed Robb’s hardening cock in his hand, and tenderly caressed him with the pad of his thumb. Theon left more kisses at the skin he could reach around Robb’s neck and jaw, peppering him with affection. Once he felt Robb become fully erect in his hand, he gave him one strong pump, and nipped at his ear lobe, drawing a low moan out from his boyfriend.

“Shhh,” Theon whispered again, harsher this time and he stopped his hand. “Can you just shut up for once in your fucking life, or we’re going to get caught.”

Robb hummed lowly, the deep sound vibrating through this chest and Theon placed a light kiss to his neck again before slowly continuing his hand movements beneath the covers. Robb shifted slightly in the bunk, pressing back further into Theon’s embrace for purchase.

Theon brushed his thumb across the tip of Robb’s cock, and had to bite back a moan himself at the half choked whisper it produced from his boyfriend. To prevent himself from making a nose, Theon slid closer, hips pressed tightly against Robb’s, face buried in the crook of his neck.

He nipped at the base of Robb’s neck before sealing his lips over the heated skin to occupy his own mouth. Unconsciously, he found himself slowly starting to grind his hips into the curve of Robb’s ass, who responded to the action by rocking his hips backward. Theon squeezed Robb’s shaft again, before speeding up the movements of his hand, enjoying the changes in Robb’s breath he could feel against his hand.

One of Robb’s hands suddenly grasped at Theon’s own sweats, before squeezing his ass and Theon was unable to stop the low moan from slipping out of his mouth against Robb’s neck. In response, Robb let out a deep groan of his own, vibrations radiating against Theon’s hand and chest.

“Fucking hell, Robb” Theon’s voice was gruff as he whispered against Robb’s ear. He nipped at his lobe again, this time at the same time he swiped his thumb underneath the head of Robb’s cock. Robb keened in his arms, and with two more strokes was arching back into Theon. “Theon” slipped out of Robb’s mouth in a hoarse moan, that was muffled behind Theon’s hand.

Theon removed his hands from Robb, and rolled onto his back; he grimaced at the mess on his hand and wiped it on the sheets next to him. “Hey,” Robb whispered and Theon looked over to see Robb propped up on his elbow, watching him with a raised brow.

“Don’t complain, this is your mess,” Theon responded before Robb leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

Theon gasped when Robb’s hand unexpectedly slipped under the waist band of his sweats to curl around his painfully hard cock, and Robb, ever the opportunist, used the moment to slip his tongue into Theon’s mouth and deepen the kiss.

Robb started pumping his wrist at a brisk speed, his thumb swiping over heated skin at random intervals that made Theon’s stomach clench. One of Theon’s hands grasped at Robb’s side while the other slid up to the back of Robb’s neck to anchor his mouth to Theon’s. After a moment, air became an urgent necessary and Robb pulled away. He looked down into Theon’s eyes, both gasping for air as Theon sped steadily towards his climax. Just as he tipped over, Theon cried out, a high pitch moan, and Robb quickly silenced him with his lips, swallowing the “Robb,” that had started to slip from his mouth.

As Theon started to relax again, they continued to kiss lazily, Robb’s free hand moving from Theon’s now soft cock to his side where he grasped at his t-shirt. He pulled Theon closer to him, where he could get a better angle to continue his assault on Theon’s lips. Eventually their passion died down till they were mostly just exchanging light pecks, nuzzling noses, and leaving random caresses here and there.

The room was silent as they lay there together, neither having spoken yet since Theon first slipped into the bed. It had been nice, considering Robb normally couldn’t keep his mouth shut for over a minute, so Theon really shouldn’t have been surprised when he was the first to break the quiet.

“You got cum on my bed,” Robb whispered, pout evident in his voice, from where his head was resting on Theon’s chest.

Theon lazily ran his fingers down Robb’s back and hummed before responding, “You got cum on my t-shirt.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Robb responded, “touché.”


	10. Theon/Robb

"You're still here?"

Theon opens his eyes, and when he instantly winces, he's not sure if it's because of the bright sunlight streaming in, or because of the harsh voice coming from the naked body beside him. He decides both make his already-unbearable headache worse. Fucking hangovers. Fucking one night stands. Fucking sunlight.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he snaps at the busty but petite brunette who's frowning at him from the right side of the bed. Robb's side. "I feel like shit, and I'm sorry I couldn't leave earlier. But I'll gladly go now."

She's kind of pretty - messy brown hair with lighter streaks in it, pouty pink lips with a shiny silver lip ring, a cute nose piercing to match a cute nose, big blue eyes. Theon closes his eyes briefly and sees a different pair of big blue eyes, so he quickly opens them again.

"You okay?" the girl asks, standing up out of bed. She's naked, and Theon glances at her breasts -  _nice, very nice_  - but he doesn't think he could fuck her again without some alcohol in his system. "Hey," she says, her voice soft, and he looks up. "You okay?"

"Uh huh," Theon says. His own voice sounds terrible; his throat's all scratchy.

"Want coffee?"

"Sure, yeah." Robb likes it with sugar, but no creamer, because "creamer is fattening". Theon laughs bitterly. The girl - Theon can't remember her name, but she kind of looks like a Jeyne, or an Alys, she could even be a Sara, who knows - looks at him like he's crazy. He kind of is. "What was your name again?" he asks.

"Names don't mean anything." She smiles, a little sadly, and pushes hair out of her eyes. "Trust me. Names don't matter. Faces do. And when you live like you and me, bodies do too, even more than faces." She points to her own. She's white, but she's got hips to rival Beyoncé's. She's also shaved bare and she's got double d's. Meaning she's basically condemned to a life of meaningless sex and rough smacks to that luscious ass of hers. "Remember this one or not, I don't care, but you're obviously remembering another one right now, and you were when you were fucking me, too, I could tell. So I'll get you some coffee, and I'll write my number on your neck, even though we both know you'll never call me, so your girlfriend can see it when she's licking it, and then you'll be in deep shit with her, and maybe you'll come back to me for a sympathy fuck. I don't know. But whatever. Coffee."

Angsty-Girl-with-Amazing-Body-and-No-Name-Number-22 leaves the bedroom, and Theon watches her ass as she goes, the sway of her hips. Then he stands and dresses, careful to not look at his phone because he already knows he's got a dozen missed calls, all from Robb. He doesn't even want to look at his contact picture. Red curls, big blue eyes, goofy grin. It hurts too much.

He brushes his teeth with her toothbrush, which isn't gross considering what they probably did last night -  _Colgate, minty fresh_  - and leaves a note, scrawled on the back of a prescription for sleep medication that's sitting on her nightstand.

 _'youre number 22,'_  it reads,  _'but 22s always been a good number for me. speaking of numbers, yours isnt on my neck, and so my boyfriend, yeah i said boyfriend, wont get to see it and im sorry for that. i wont be coming back, but thank you for last night.  
\- i dont have a name either. i wish i knew yours._

Then he slips out the window of her apartment, climbs down the fire escape, and starts to hail a cab when he realizes he's in a smaller city in New York. He still doesn't risk looking at his phone, but the cabbie tells him it's nine a.m. when he asks.

"Okay," Theon says. "Take me home, Mr. Cab Driver Man."

"Mr. Cab Driver Man" is actually a Theon Greyjoy fan, and he does get Theon home - by one a.m., but it's better than staying in New York. Theon gives the kid a tip of six hundred and fifty bucks - it's everything he's got in his pocket. The young cabbie gapes, then starts grinning like a maniac. Theon signs the fifty, then gets out, thanks the man - he's technically "Mr. Cab Driver Boy", since he's only twenty two -, and starts up the street. He'd had the cab driver pull up two streets away from his and Robb's place so he wouldn't tell everyone where they lived. They had enough problems; crazy fans peering in the bedroom window during sexytime was exactly what they didn't need.

Robb's not sitting on the couch this time, not slumped over and drooling and passed out from waiting for Theon for hours. He doesn't hop up and jump into Theon's arms, and then cry, and then slap him. He's not there at all.

Theon goes through the house, looking everywhere for him, and he finally finds him in their bedroom, curled up and shivering like he's cold, which makes sense because he's kicked all the blankets off him. He's in one of Theon's shirts, boxers that might be Theon's, and no pants. No wonder he's cold. He looks so small, so little and venerable in Theon's bed.

Theon climbs in behind him, pulling Robb into his chest, holding him close. Robb makes a tiny protesting sound, and Theon pulls off his ball cap, tossing it across the room and burying his face in Robb's curls. He smells like lavender. Girly, but kind of comforting, if a little strong. It's not his usual fruity smell, though. Theon himself still smells like cheap beer and Number 22's perfume, but somehow that's okay.

He wakes up to cold water in his face and a vicious "Wake the fuck up!" in his ear.

"What the fuck?" he sputters, wiping aggressively at his eyes. "Robb, what the-"

"Where the fuck were you? Do you know how fucking worried everyone was? Jon wanted to send out search parties. You were gone without telling any fucking one for four fucking days, you  _dick_!" Robb kicks the bed, hard, as he shouts 'dick', and then he stands there and breathes hard, one hand gripping the empty cup and the other holding Theon's phone. Theon blinks at him slowly.

A few silent minutes pass. Theon stares at the phone in Robb's hand as the notification light on it flashes. Robb stares at Theon. "Say something," he says, and he'd be pleading, except he's not. His voice sounds empty. His face looks horrible; his skin's paler than usual, his normally his big bright blue eyes are a dull blue, his lips are chapped and set in a hard line.

Theon blurts the first thing he thinks of. "I think that's the most I've ever heard you say 'fuck', outside of when _I_ fuck you."

Robb's bottom lip trembles. A tear drips down his cheek. Robb only ever cries when he sees sad movies, and Theon teases him about it every time it happens, but he doesn't cry because of this kind of stuff - he's not emotional like that. But another tear falls, and then he's turning and leaving. Theon hears the garage door open and close five minutes later.

Robb took Theon's phone when he left, so Theon takes a couple Ativans and then ends up on the couch, watching Breaking Bad for four hours and Friends for seven.

Robb finally comes back at around nine, and as soon as he's in the door, he puts the car keys on the counter, doesn't even acknowledge Theon, and microwaves one of those easy cook lasagna things.

"Have you eaten?" he asks Theon once it's done, sitting across from him. His voice is husky; he probably hasn't talked for hours, just drove around alone and thought about his life. Theon knows what that's like.

Robb frowns at him. He opens his legs, slips a hand down to rub at himself, but Theon just focuses blankly on his crotch, and then back on his face. Robb's done this before; argued with Theon and then assumed sex would fix it all. It does, for the most part, but he hates the fact that he's done this to him. He's made Robb think sex makes everything better, Theon hates himself for it. But it's just kind of like a bandage; it's a distraction, so you forget the wound is there, until you take it off and that son of a bitch stings like a motherfucker.

Robb's face is unreadable; he stands, with the lasagna, and straddles Theon. Theon stares up at him. His brain is a warm, fuzzy mess, and his dick is slowly heating up too.

"Did you eat?" Robb repeats.

Theon manages to shake his head.

"How many pills did you take?"

Theon shrugs.

Robb's eyes close briefly, and then they open, bright and determined and staring into Theon's. "Open up, then."

Theon could feed himself, he really could, but there's something nice about Robb feeding him. It's not sexual, though it could be, with the way Robb's staring at his mouth and licking his own lips. But it's intimate in another way, because Robb cares enough to do this. Most of the people Theon's fucked - fucked, no,  _dated_  - wouldn't do this for him. But Robb is.

They finish the food, and Robb does the dishes, though they'd eaten out of the container. Then he says softly, "Come to bed”

Theon does, as soon as the current Friends episode ends. He strips down bare, then slips in.

It's too dark to see, but he feels Robb rolls over, and then he's on top of Theon, naked as well. He kisses him hard, and Theon's tired but he kisses back with just as much vigor.

They don't have angry sex, but Robb gets a little aggressive; rolls his hips too hard, bites Theon's neck into a red and purple mess, pulls his hair until Theon whines. Theon responds by digging his nails into Robb's hips, snapping his own until Robb's crying out, not touching his cock and slapping Robb's hand away every time he tries to touch it himself. One of Theon's hands finds Robb's face; there's hot wetness sliding down his cheeks, and now Theon can hear the cries that aren't moans. He grips Robb's chin, tilting his head down to kiss him, his hips working overtime. Robb's cursing now, just a begging mess of, "Theon, fuck, please,  _fuck_ ," with the occasional sob thrown in. Theon's free hand slides down Robb's back, grips his ass, feels the muscles moving. Once, as a joke, Theon had scribbled the words, "The only place that feels like home," on Robb's lower back, in pen, with arrow pointing down to his ass. It was dumb at the time, just to piss him off, but it's true now. There was just something so intimate about fucking Robb, being inside him when no one else  _(?)_  had. It was a type of intimacy that holding hands or making music could never amount to.

Robb's got one hand on Theon's shoulder and the other on his own dick now, and Theon lets him, mostly because he likes hearing Robb when he's three strokes away from coming everywhere. He's talking now, gasping between words but clearly saying, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you do this to us?"

"I'm sorry," Theon whispers in Robb's ear, and Robb actually wails, body going taught and ass clenching ridiculously tight as he shakes and streaks Theon's chest with release. Theon thrusts up a few more times and manages to get Robb's prostate, judging by the way he whines and then whimpers, trembling hard. He slumps, nose smashed to Theon's cheek, ragged breathing in Theon's ringing ear.

"I don't get to come?" Theon asks aloud.

"Not in me, you don't," Robb says, and he sounds terrible, wrecked and in tears. He sniffles, getting off Theon and rolling over onto his side.

"Fuck that," Theon says, sliding down and moving to spoon Robb - but he slips back inside him, hooking a leg over his and tugging him closer.

"Too sensitive," Robb says sharply. He sounds exhausted. "Let me sleep."

"Let me get off," Theon answers, Robb lets him, hips snapping into Robb until finally, finally he comes, so hard everything goes black for a few seconds.

"Get off of me now." Robb's low voice cuts through his high.

"Let me enjoy the after glow, Jesus Christ."

"Get the fuck off me," Robb grits out.

He lets go instantly - and Robb gets out of bed. He leaves the room, and Theon watches him, thinks back to Number 22 and Number 16 and Number 7 doing the same thing - leaving. And all of them. Robb's not going to be one of them.

Theon rolls over and falls asleep alone on top of lube-slick, sweat-and-tear-covered silk sheets.

A few weeks later, he wakes up on a Sunday morning in Number 23's bed. This one's a redhead - he's not usually into redheads, Robb's just an exception. He likes them dark and exotic, kind of like himself. Maybe it's the narcissistic side of him. Or the side of him that hates himself. Maybe fucking people that resemble him and leaving them even more broken than they originally were is a twisted way of hurting himself.

Number 23 is dressed in a Starbucks uniform; her nametag says 'Ella'. Number 23 suddenly has a name. Her makeup's light and complimentary, not dark and smeared like his usual affairs' are. She's on her phone, but she glances up when he sits up. "My shift started seven minutes ago. I didn't want to leave a stranger alone in my house. C'mon."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Theon tugs his jeans up, but has to crawl around in search for his shirt. He finds it hanging from the ceiling fan, and eyes 'Ella'.

"I felt bad." She throws his phone at him, and he catches it. "A Robb's been texting you for hours. He started off worried, but then he sounded pissed. I didn't want you to go home to that."

"We'll fight and then we'll fuck it better," Theon says. "You have a job to get to, don't you?"

"And you have a concerned husband to get to," she says, tapping Theon's wedding ring and pursing her lips at him. He has flashes back to that night; nothing but happiness. Robb's adorable laughing face and terrible dance moves, Jon being a drunken mess, amazing sex after the ceremony. Robb's beaming smile the entire day. He hasn't seen him smile that genuinely since.

It's been over two years since their wedding.

Then he's back in reality; in a stranger's bedroom, Stranger Number 23, to be exact. She herds him out, locks the door behind them, then says, "You need a ride somewhere?"

"What city are we in?" he has to ask, because he doesn't know.

"Chicago," she says, frowning.

"Oh." He glances around. Right, he knows this neighbourhood. "Nah, I'm okay. Thanks for, um. Thanks for everything." He taps at his pocketed phone nervously. Her blue eyes are staring hard at him. He's uncomfortable.

"Tell Robb I'm sorry for what I helped you do to him," she says. "I helped you cheat. That's fucked up of both of us - it's a deadly sin, isn't it? And I helped you do it. Tell him I'm sorry."

He doesn't, just hugs Robb tight when he gets home and lets him grab his hair and fuck his mouth when he sucks him off. He owes him that, honestly, because they both know that Robb knows exactly where that mouth was just last night.

But Theon's extra careful to leave before Number 24, a little black haired guy with a great mouth, wakes up, just three days later. He doesn't leave a note.

He tries to go home at the decent time of noon. Robb's not there; Theon suspects he's at work or the store, one of the two. Until he doesn't come home and Theon falls asleep waiting for him, just like Robb had with him, all that time ago.

But then Robb stumbles in at two a.m., drunkenly laughing and making out with a skinny guy who's quite a bit taller than him. He has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss him; he doesn't have to do that with Theon.

Theon blinks warily, and then it connects, and without thinking, he stands up and literally punches the guy's lights out. He falls to the ground, unconscious.

"What the fuck, Theon?" Robb yells, and he's drunk as fuck, yeah, his words are slurring and he's not even focusing on Theon's face. "You cheat twice a week, but - but I can't sleep with one fucking guy that's not, not you?"

"No," Theon snaps, crowding Robb up against the wall. He grabs his hands, slams them up above his head and then leans in close. "Because you're mine, you fuck."

Robb squirms, then goes still and says, slowly, "Then you're mine, too."

"Yeah," Theon says. "I am."

He doesn't believe it. Robb doesn't either.

Theon fucks him dry against the wall, tries to ignore the fact that Robb's Stranger Number 1 is passed out a few feet away, and the fact that Robb's crying. Always fucking crying. He kisses him, tenderly and then more passionately, but Robb's bottom lip keeps trembling. The dry slide hurts Theon's dick, and he can't imagine what it feels like for Robb, but it can't be that bad because Theon switches angles and Robb's legs tighten around his waist, and then he's coming, hard, head thrown back against the wall and perfect neck exposed. Theon's left thousands of hickeys on thousands of perfect necks, but breaking the delicate skin on Robb's is the best. He leaves five in a line, thinks,  _One hickey for every letter of my name. Reminds both of us who he belongs to._  He comes when Robb makes a broken little whining sound - he's not a sadist, he's not, but there's something beautiful and ridiculously hot about breaking the already broken.

Robb's lost a ton of weight in the last year, but Theon's still tired from holding him up for a good twenty minutes. He lets Robb go, and Robb just kind of crumbles to the ground. Theon goes back to the bedroom and falls asleep alone. Again.

-

Number 25 smokes. She's a redhead, not naturally, judging by the dark brown of her roots. She's been hanging out behind the bar with Theon for an hour. The smell floods Theon's nostrils, that not-so-pleasant stink of nicotine burning. She's technically not Number 26 yet, they haven't even touched and neither of them are drunk, but Theon figures she will be in a few martinis.

"Can I bum one off you?" Theon asks. She nods, and he sticks the one he's offered between his teeth, lights it, then takes a pull. He doesn't start coughing violently, thank God. He doesn't even smoke, but he wants to smell like someone he's not when he goes home to Robb.

"You have someone at home, no?" 26 asks in that delicious South American accent of hers. She flicks her cigarette at Theon's wedding band, and the sparks briefly light up the engraving of 'RS + TG' (there's a tree, somewhere in a rural part of Chicago, that says those same four letters). Robb has a matching one. He wanted the engraving on the inside of the ring, so it was hidden ( _"Like a secret,"_  he'd said,  _"and I know how much you love those."_ ) but Theon won the argument to get it on the outside.

He needs to stop wearing it out of the house. "Yeah," he says. "We're - it's not. Anymore."

She nods sympathetically and sticks her bottom lip out. "Need someone to kiss it better?"

Theon nods eagerly.

He gets a killer blowjob in her old Mercedes. It's not what he'd like - he was hoping on some mind blowing penetration; South American girls are apparently incredible in bed, - but he'll take what he can get. He reaches into her panties to get her off, but she smiles and shakes her head, then gets to fixing her hair and makeup. Theon doesn't know what to do, so he gets out of the car and starts for his house.

When he gets home, Robb's laying on their bed, watching MTV through unfocused eyes. It's not music, but Theon turns it off before he can see what the show is. Robb stares blankly at the dark TV screen.

Theon straddles him, runs his hands down Robb's chest.

"Missed you, baby," Theon says, grinding down on Robb to the beat of the ticking clock in the hallway until he's hard underneath him. "You missed me, right? Your dick totally did, I think."

"You smell like smoke," Robb says, eyes flickering up to meet Theon's. "Where were you?"

"Out," Theon says. He's in the mood to switch things up. "Wanna fuck me, Robb?"

Robb's silent. Then he nods slightly.

Theon grins.

He ends up doing most of the work. Robb lays back, admires Theon through big blue eyes that aren't actually admiring him. Theon puts on a show, is careful to be loud (he screams just to bother the neighbors, loudly yells, "Oh, God, fuck,  _fuck me_ , so fucking,  _fuck_ , touch me!"), jerks himself off and shrieks when he comes. Him and Robb both know it's fake; Theon's actually kind of quiet in bed. But Robb doesn't comment, and when he himself comes, it's with his hips tilted up, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth open. When he's stopped shaking, Theon gets off of him and lays beside him. Robb turns to face away from him, and Theon curls up behind him, tracing patterns on his back through his t-shirt. An hour or so passes. Theon's drowning in terrible thoughts, about what he’s doing to Robb. He could end this; there's so many ways to. Every problem has a solution, and he could just eliminate the problem, easy enough - except none of this is Robb's fault. It's Theon's. Theon's done this.

He's sure Robb's asleep, but then he hears sniffling and Robb shifts. He's crying again.

Theon's suddenly mad. He doesn't know why, but he's suddenly two seconds from punching a hole in a wall. "Stop fucking crying," he snaps. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Robb doesn't answer, but he doesn't stop.

"Shut the fuck up. How the hell am I supposed to sleep when you're crying like that?" He doesn't know where the anger's coming from. Pent up rage and frustration, maybe. But he doesn't get physically abusive - he never has. He's glad for that. He just stands up and leaves, grabbing a shirt and pants on the way out.

He ends up alone in his car in a Best Buy parking lot. This time he doesn't have any pills on him, or his CD. He's grateful.

Robb calls a few minutes later. It's four a.m. now. "Come home, Theon."

Theon doesn't answer.

"Theon, please."

He hates Robb. Hates him. He's been nothing but an incredible boyfriend; loyal, doting, sweet. But Theon hates him because he hates himself. Robb's just a reminder of how fucked up Theon is and how fucked up he makes the people he gets close to.

Theon stays silent.

"I love you," Robb says, his voice sounding choked. "I love you, Theon - please come home."

Theon hangs up.

He hates obsessions. He hates being obsessed. 'Obsessions' is really just a lighter word for 'addictions' anyway. When someone says 'addiction,' you think of drug abuse, alcoholism. When someone says 'obsession,' you think of a band or singer or actor you're totally in love with. But it's the same thing, really. Google says so.

Robb's an obsession. Or an addiction, he's not sure. Probably both. Then again, it's the same thing, right?

Theon's an addict. Everyone's an addict. Robb is Theon's favorite drug, his favorite musician, his favorite addiction/obsession. That's the only reason he keeps coming back.

He slips back into their bed three days later, pulls Robb close.

"You gonna make this a habit, Theon?" Robb asks, sounding sleepy and a little wary but thankfully not tearful. "Crawling into my bed at ungodly hours?"

"Your bed? It's our bed, princess."

"But you haven't been in it in so long. I've had it all to myself for months, so I pretty much consider it mine now."

 _I wanna leave already,_  Theon thinks. He holds Robb tighter, and Robb's hand covers Theon's, where it's rested over his stomach.

He doesn't sleep. But Robb does.

Theon wonders what things would be like if the gentle sound of Robb's breathing wasn't there. He probably wouldn’t be breathing either if he’s honest with himself

They go shopping together the next day. Robb's been dressing snazzier since he's lost the weight, and now he's in a short sleeve button up, a complimentary blue color that really brings out his eyes, and black skinny jeans that fit him very nicely, wild beautiful red curls. Theon's in a hoodie and jeans. That's all he wears anyway.

They get in a fight over crackers, of all fucking things. Theon wants Wheat Thins, and Robb wants Ritz.

"It's the same fucking thing," Robb says, his voice low but harsh. "Who the fuck cares?"

"Wheat Thins and Ritz aren't the same, you dumbass, there's a huge difference between them. Wheat Thins are square shaped and salty, and Ritz are rounded and cheesy and gross, and they have ridges, why the fuck-"

"We'll get both, then, calm the fuck down!"

"No, we're fucking getting Wheat Thins or we're not getting shit." Theon's voice has gradually risen, and now he's shouting.

"You're making a scene," Robb says, quietly and calmly. "People are staring."

"We're getting fucking Wheat Thins." Theon sweeps his arm across the shelf, and a dozen boxes of crackers fall into their cart.

Robb looks at the cart for a long moment, then he calmly gathers the six things they've already gotten in his arms. Then he's walking down the aisle, away from Theon.

Theon stares after him dumbly. Then he grabs a box of Ritz crackers and leaves their cart there, running after Robb.

"Here," he says after he's tapped Robb on the shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Robb looks at him and just sighs loudly, even as he takes the crackers. They go through checkout without speaking. The car ride home is even worse. Theon wonders if he should just make Robb "accidentally" swerve into another car. They're on the freeway; with the speed they're going at, it might kill them both.

Five blocks from their house, Theon says, "Drop me off here."

"Why?" Robb asks.

"Do it."

Robb pulls up next to a post office. "Want me to wait for you?"

"I'll come home later."

Robb nods and lets him out. "What are you gonna do?"

"Find Number 26," Theon answers.

Robb's silent. Then he puts his sunglasses on and drives away.

Number 26 ends up being a little red head guy who closely resembles Robb; he even makes the same sounds when Theon fucks him. He's a children's nurse, too, and later, when they're laying there together, he starts blabbing about a kid he worked with yesterday, and Theon listens half-heartedly, hums when he's supposed to.

"Hey, like, I have to go." Theon points to his wedding ring. "Wife's expecting me back from my 'business trip' around right now, y'know?"

26 nods. "You should get back to her. Thank you, uh. Did - did you ever tell me your name?"

"Fuck names; remember my face and my dick, babe, that's all that matters."

The guy watches him dress, then lights up a cigarette. Theon wants to say, "A children's nurse? Who smokes? Good example you're setting there, doc." But instead he says, "Can I have one?"

26 passes him one.

Theon thanks him, then lets himself out. He throws the unlit cigarette into the street and starts walking.

When he gets home, Robb's not there. There's a note on the counter that says,  _"I'm tired of your shit. I can't handle you and your addictions. I still love you, Theon, but it's too much. Our lives aren’t working together, and you and I aren't either. I'm sorry. I'll come for my stuff later. -Robb"_

Theon slides down to the kitchen floor, note in hand. He pulls his knees to his chest; Robb's gone. He actually left. Theon barks out a bitter laugh, even as hot tears streak his cheeks. He finally fucking had enough.

Theon spends ten minutes crying on the floor, and then goes and swallows down a dozen pills. He's just fueling one of his many addictions.

 _'i guess youre number 27, baby'_ , Theon texts Robb. Then he blacks out.

Theon wakes up in a hospital room, bright as ever, Robbs in a chair on his right, curls untamed, eyes puffy with ugly wet tears, Theon looks down at his hand, in Robb’s hand, Theon would laugh if he could right now. Instead he tries for a reassuring smile at his husband.


	11. Satin/Jon

The Tokyo lights slid past the window in a blur. Satin blinked, his eyelash brushing against the glass he was pressed against. He blinked again, and wondered how drunk he was. It didn't matter though; he would sleep at the hotel, tale his pills in the morning and start the day again tomorrow. It was the same each day, but nothing set his soul on fire than to see his face on thousands of magazines, girls screaming over his eyes, his lips, his flawless skin. It was intoxicating, more than the champagne he demanded at each shoot, just to see people screaming his name, sobbing just to be a part of him.

Everyone loved him. It was perfection.

Tomorrow he would do it all again, wait for the make-up artists to put on the final details, then pose for a few shots, let everyone fix his hair, his clothes, a little more powder just one more time. Japan was a little different, with the entire crew watching each shoot, yelling out at every snap of the camera. Satin loved it.

Speaking of tomorrow, he called out, "Hey Jon."

The man driving merely grunted. Satin laughed, a little too loud for the dark car but it didn't matter. "What are we doing tomorrow?"

Jon was silent for a moment, and then replied in his usual monotone. "You have a morning photo shoot, and then lunch with the executives from Vogue Japan. After that you'll have an interview at Tsutaya in Shibuya. Tomorrow night you have a party at the Imperial Hotel."

Satin laughed again. "Hmm... busy busy busy… When will I have time for me?"

"You won't." Jon, if he was anything, was to the point.

Giggling still, Satin crawled to the front to lean against Jon's shoulder. "You should come to the party with me," he said into his ear.

"Go back and sit down. I'm driving."

"I can see that." Satin rubbed his hand along Jon's thigh, humming softy. "You really are gorgeous, aren't you?"

Satin could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "You're the model here. Now shut up and sit down or I'm not going to tell you your schedule again in the morning."

"Meanie," he huffed, but did as he was told. The rest of the ride back was quiet, save for the liquid sloshing in Satin's bottle. He wondered if it really matter if he destroyed the inside of his body, pickled it with wine and sweet sake. No one really cared what his insides looked like anyway; they only wanted his face, his hair and his skin. well, his cock too, he thought with another soft giggle. They all wanted that.

When they got to the hotel, a tall Hyatt with waterfalls in front there was a valet to take the vehicle from Jon so he could help Satin up to his room. Satin grinned the whole way, snuggling into Jon's shoulder on the elevator and leaning against him as he unlocked the room. Satin wandered in on his own though, stumbling over the bathrobe he had dropped in the morning and drifting into the bedroom. Jon usually stayed until Satin was in bed, cleaning up the clothes thrown around the room or sometimes ordering something to eat when Satin was really too far gone.  
It didn't matter what he did, because Satin knew that Jon would always be there. He always had been, and the future was looking the same.

Satin dropped into the chair in front of the dresser, unbuttoning his shirt to look at himself. There he was, the world's most famous male model, surrounded by the plush red drapes that adorned the hotel room. Satin had thought it too girly at first, but now it was perfect, highlighting his creamy pale skin, the perfect arch to his eye brows. His eyes looked like fire with the crimson reflecting into the dark brown, a halo of black raven curls sat atop his head, as so many articles described them. He was beautiful, and he knew it.

"Perfect," Satin whispered to himself, as if he hadn't heard it all day. "Perfect, and eternal. No one can have this." He ran his hands down his chest, marveling at the subtle strength there, the lithe tone that had girls in several countries begging to put their hands on him. He stroked up towards his neck, pushing the collar back so he could see that sweeping length in its entirety.

Satin stopped. What the hell was that? He leaned in closer to the mirror, twisting so he could see better. There, just below his collar was a bruise, heavy and dark. It wasn't a hickey; Satin has plenty of those so he could tell the difference. This was something else, something wrong, something...

Imperfect.

Satin bit his lip to keep from crying out. He couldn't risk Jon finding out, seeing this and stopping everything they had planned. Satin had seen this before, girls and boys who suddenly went wrong, like a god's blessing suddenly taking flight, left with nothing but despair and loneliness and no one to love them ever. Satin wouldn't have that, he couldn't.

But the proof was there, on his neck, most likely growing and spreading until his life was like one great bruise, darkness covering over every good thing he had in his life, left with nothing but Jon to keep him company and show him love.

And who knows, maybe Jon would leave too? Satin sank into the chair at that thought. If Satin wasn't beautiful, if he wasn't famous, what reason would Jon have to stay? Satin needed him to stay, needed him to fix this, like he had fixed every other problem in Satin’s life, easy as pulling a blanket over it. Jon had been there for Satin since the beginning, and Satin would be damned if he left now.

As he ran his fingers gently over the bruise, Satin listened to the man still puttering around in the living room. He was silent, like usual, but obviously keeping himself busy until Satin collapsed into bed. Slowly, the model stood and went to the door, snagging one of his pills on the way, swallowing, he considered the man.

It wasn't like this would be new to Satin. He had done it before, seduced executives into his bed and into signing contracts. This would be no different; force Jon into loving him, needing him and he would never leave Satin.

Steeling himself, Satin walked over to the bench by the window, dropping his shirt on the way and leaning against the cool glass. He made sure that his bruised neck was facing the window as he regarded Jon.

The man was beautiful, especially dressed in the stylish grey suit. His eyes were dark and hot, guarded like heavy smoke. Satin could never see what he was thinking, but he had always wondered. His hands were strong and competent, but always gentle as they lead Satin into cars, into hotels, into bed most nights. Satin had dreamed several times of those hands, and now he was going to have them.

"Hey," he called out. "Jon come here."

Jon merely rolled his eyes from where he was leaning against the counter. "You should be in bed."

"I know, I know, I just..." Satin didn't finish the sentence, just ran his hand down his chest, exaggerating the moment with a drawn out sigh.

He wasn't looking, but he knew the moment that Jon finally looked his way, because the air in the room was suddenly something else, charged and deep, the way it always was when Satin spent time thinking about what Jon meant to him. But this wasn't about what Satin needed Jon for; it was about convincing Jon that he needed Satin just as much. "Please, will you help me?" Satin called out, looking at Jon with his perfected bedroom eyes, beckoning him with every fiber of his being. Really, Satin could be an actor with how much emotion he put into his modeling.

Jon huffed, teeth obviously clenched. He looked angry for some reason, but he still came closer, hovering over Satin with those dark rage filled eyes. Satin didn't care what kind of eyes Jon had, as long as he was looking at him.

"Please," Satin whispered, and it was like the breaking of a dam. Jon dropped to his knees in front of Satin and hauled him in closer, kissing him deeply. Satin groaned into the kiss, because really it had been too long; it was always hard to find time to fuck when he went to other countries. But this was perfect, with how hard Jon was clutching him, obviously needing him. Satin was drunk with how much he was wanted.

Jon pulled him closer and sank down, kissing his chest as he went. Finally he reached his pants and deftly unbuttoned them, yanking them to the floor. "Easy there," Satin chuckled. "Those are Designers."

Satin could have sworn he heard a growl from Jon just before be responded, "Shut up, Satin." He was perfectly happy to obey, just as long as Jon moved his mouth a little lower. And he did, licking gently along the light hairs that lead to Satin's now painfully hard cock. Satin was a little shocked at how much he wanted it; he must not have been as drunk as he thought after all.

  
Jon didn't waste time; instead he sank down on Satin like he was born to please only him. Maybe he was, Satin pondered, as he sighed and moaned just to keep Jon going. Maybe he already needed him as much as he needed air, as much as Satin needed Jon. Did they really need each other? Satin bucked and groaned as Jon gave a clever twist with his tongue and sucked him as hard as he could.

Satin bucked off the bench, suddenly swimming with want and the flush that his pill gave him. He almost regretted the emptiness in his mind as he rolled back and sank into the bench, letting Jon guide him. It had been nice being so sharply aware of how much Jon wanted him, with every flick of his tongue, and hollow groan from the beautiful man below him. Now Satin was careening towards the edge, with no scrap of sanity to hold on to. Satin came.

Coming back from the afterglow, he found himself in Jon's arms, being carried to the bed. It was nice, gentle and caring, and for a moment, Satin let himself pretend that this was real. He'd never had a real relationship; he was too busy for that and the papers would have a field day. No magazine could sell sexy if their top model was suddenly monogamous. No, he could never have that. He could only draw Jon to him, like a moth.

As Jon laid him on the bed, still reverently, Satin reached out for him, running his hands down his chest to stop at the top of his pants. "Come on Jon, take me," he murmured, tugging lightly at the belt and smiling his most sensual smile at the man.

Jon didn't ravish him like he expected. Instead, he ripped Satin’s hands from him and pinned them to the bed, on either side of his head. His eyes were dark and angry again, with that same rage as before, only this time it wasn't clouded by any lust. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know what you're doing?"

Satin blinked at him in shock. "I'm not doing anything. I just thought-"

"You thought what? That you could seduce me and I would do whatever you wanted me to? Do you think that I don't already? Do you think that I haven't given up everything in my life just to make sure that you keep smiling for the cameras?" Jon hissed at him, releasing one hand to roughly tilt his head to the side.

"Do you think I don't know about this? Did you think you were the first to see? No of course not. You're too lost in your champagne and your fucking pills to see what the fuck is wrong with you. I saw those bruises weeks ago, on your back. Did you ever wonder why the makeup artists suddenly felt the need to do whole body cover? Did you?!"

Satin trembled under him. It couldn't be. This one was just a fluke, nothing real. It would heal and he would be beautiful again. "It's not true," he whispered, half to convince himself.

"Don't be an idiot Satin, not more than you usually are. You've been killing yourself for weeks, fuck years even. And like an idiot, I've been following you around, switching your pills when I can, and doing my best to keep you from actually succeeding in killing yourself." He leaned in closer, his eyes clear for once, letting Satin see the pain there. "I can't keep watching you do this to yourself Satin. God, what the fuck is wrong with you? When was the last time you spoke to Alys? I know you spoke to your mother a month ago, because I made you, but when did you last called your best friend? When?!"

Satin winced as the yell washed over him. "A few... weeks..."

"Try a year ago Satin. A year ago you talked to your best friend, and it was only for two minutes. God, will you just stop and think what you've done with your life?"

Sniffling, Satin looked away, trying to stop the tears falling from his eyes, focusing on the ceiling behind Jon's head. "It's not all bad," he whispered. "They love me."

Jon shook his head, his eyes finally softening. "They love the idea of you. They love the image they can sell. They don't love you." He dropped his head, resting against his shoulder. When he spoke, his lips brushed the bruise, like a lover's kiss gone wrong. "They don't love you like I do."

  
Satin gasped and bit his lip, tears fell from his eyes. This is what he wanted, for Jon to love him and need him, but it was so much more. He remembered that last conversation with Alys, telling him how happy she was that she was pregnant. He vaguely remembered Jon telling him about a baby, but that was in Milan and he just didn’t have time for that. God, where had he gone? He swallowed and tilted his head until he was snuggled closer to Jon.

Jon had always been there for Satin, helping him with him first contract, at only 16, and desperately nervous about everything. It was Jon who drove him to LA for his first audition, helping him fill out the paperwork and not miss his number when it as called. Jon, who flew to London and New York with him, letting Satin sleep on his shoulder when shoots ran until the last minute. Jon was the one who bought him a tiny cupcake on his 18th birthday, when he was trapped in Paris and couldn’t find time for a real party.

It was Jon who was everything to Satin, and he had just decided on a drunken whim to use him to stay at the top of the fashion industry. Satin couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer, tugging his hands from Jon’s hold to wrap them around his shoulders.

Jon hushed him, pulling him even closer, and protecting him with his entire body. Satin couldn’t tell what he was protecting him from, the world outside or himself. He was almost sure that it was himself. “Hush Satin,” he muttered. “Relax. Everything will be fine. Hey, look at me.” He leaned back and looked Satin in the eye. “We are going to finish this trip here, as well as the ones we have planned. I will be in control of what you drink and we are going to the doctor tomorrow afternoon. When we have time, we will go home.” He kissed Satin’s cheek gently. “We will see your mother, You’ll play with Alys’ baby. And everything will be fine.”

Satin only sobbed harder, but it was a little easier with Jon’s hands rubbing his back. As he slowly drifted into sleep, Jon still warm on top of him and Satin realized he had been right about one thing.

Jon did know how to fix everything.


	12. Loras/Renly

Loras would deny it with every bone in his body: he did not have a crush on the new languages professor.

It was not completely his fault considering said professor was well over six feet tall and muscled like an Olympian. The tight shirts he wore and the friendly way he taught his classes did little to stop the budding obsession either. Loras, the PA to the English department in general, found that while crushing on a professor was weird, as long as it was neither his professor nor in his department, it was completely fine.

Satin disagreed, loudly and vocally.

“He’s like a million years old,” he muttered while dabbing concealer under his eyes and a skirl of glitter over each lid. “What’s his degree in anyway, tight shirts?”

“It's in multi-ethnic languages and pray tell me, what’s your major again?” Loras hissed, flipping through a magazine he hadn't seen Renly reading no he was  _just suddenly interested in western architecture, ok Satin?_

“You know I'm a fourth year undecided, you bitch,” he muttered, no real heat behind the words. He finished his makeup and winked at his reflection before throwing his bag over his shoulder and doing a little shimmy for Loras and heading for the door. “Good luck with your guy problems, I'm going to get laid by my wonderfully hung boyfriend and think of your poor blue balled self while doing it.”

“You think of me while having sex with your boyfriend,” Loras raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “Does he know that?”

It got him a stuck out tongue but also a laugh, so he figured the only damage done was that he was no closer to figuring out the enigma that was the pale skinned god that was currently haunting Loras’ many dirty dreams.

This left very few options open to him but Loras, being the sly and clever man he was, made it his semester’s mission to get Renly, buff, beautiful Renly, to notice him.

Loras, for all of his snark, found it easy enough to pick up guys in the college town. Some wanted to try it for a night, others were so far in the closet they might have called themselves Narnian but so few of them kept Loras’ interest after the night and the few who did, always managed to squeeze their way into the exclusive group of Loras’ friends but never more. Meaning when Renly, witty and wonderful Renly, winked at him over the pile of books in the library, Loras was hooked and all of his normal plans went out the window.

From there, Loras planed every one of their meetings down to a tee. Loras’ best lighting was at 6:30 a night so they conviently ran into each other and chatted for a few minutes before Loras remembered he had somewhere to be and something to do, that somewhere being his apartment and that something being nervously thinking about every word that had been said between them.

Loras got a cat because Renly walked his dog and it was only when they bumped into each other in the park, did anyone inform him that cats don't need walks but that Renly, sweet and sincere Renly, thought it was cute. But he said it while looking right at Loras, maybe he thinks Loras is cute? He blushes anyway.

They meet unexpectedly at a local dive bar and Renly, kind and caring Renly, introduced Loras to his friends. One, big like Renly but with close cropped hair and an earring takes one look then snorts into his watered down beer. Renly ignores him and the warm of his cheeks flare slightly pink under Loras’ stare. He counts it as a win.

He’s invited out to the movies with friends and then only ends up seeing it with Renly. Loras invites him over for supper with Satin and his roommate asks who bottoms. Renly said he does. Loras realized they might have been dating.

When Loras wakes up the next morning, half naked and warm from the arm over his back, he thinks they must have been dating for a while.

Months after they have been dating a while Renly admits to fearing Loras only had a crush on him because he was a professor so Loras smacks him on the stomach lightly.

“I was only dating you for your abs and that tight ass of yours,” Loras muttered sleepily into Renly’s shoulder and his whole body vibrates with the strength of Renly, warm and soft Renly, laughing.


	13. Robb/Theon + Jon

Robb just assumes that Theon’s had too much to drink when he watches him plant himself on Jon’s lap and start to unbutton the top three buttons on Jon’s shirt. Jon doesn’t seem to be minding, and that just isn’t how a guest acts on _Robb’s_ boathouse.

“Are we still playing beer pong?” Robb asks as he fills up three more red cups. Theon isn’t paying any attention to Robb, he’s lavishing it all on Jon.

“I’m up,” Jon says.

“I know you are,” Theon gushes as he fixes Jon’s collar. He’s still sitting across Jon’s legs.

“Get a room,” Robb rolls his eyes as he grits his teeth, holding back the jealous anger building in his gut. He likes Jon well enough, hell, he and Theon have talked about bringing him into a threesome sometime, but he’s not liking how _his_ man is acting with their guest, right in front of him.

“Oh, Robbie,” Theon flashes Robb a toothy smile. He swings his legs off of Jon’s lap and stands up, his semi-erection apparent through his board shorts. “Is it really beer pong you want to be playing?” He licks his lips and leans over to run a finger across Jon’s cheek.

Robb bites his lower lip and glares at Theon. He’s trying hard not to think about Theon’s cock, focusing on the fact that Theon is flirting with disaster and edging him on to show him who’s boss around here.

Jon takes a sip from the red cup he’s been holding. He’s watching Theon and Robb’s game, the dance they seem to be doing and he’s not saying a word.

“I say we play truth or dare,” Theon flops down on the sofa next to Jon. “What do you say, Jon?” He’s watching Robb out of the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction.

“I’ve never played,” Jon clears his throat as if he’s feeling parched and quite a bit aroused if the tent in his oversized swim trunks is any indication to it.

“You’re too juvenile, Theon,” Robb huffs. He takes one of the freshly filled cups of beer and chugs it. He’s fuming and he’s pretty sure Theon is purposefully causing it.

“You never want to have any fun,” Theon takes Jon’s cup and drinks from it.

Robb thinks his brain is going to bust. “You know what, Theon?” He walks over and stands over the two of them. Theon looks up with an impish grin. “I think maybe it’s time I remind you exactly _who_ you belong to.”

“By all means, remind me,” Theon smiles wide with the words.

Robb forces in, straddling Theon’s thighs, Robb’s left knee is pressed against Jon’s bare leg. He takes Theon’s face in his hands and frames it, holding it still as he kisses him. Robb’s cock is hard and pressing into Theon’s now fully formed hard-on. He bites Theon’s lower lip and stares down into his drunken blue eyes. “You’re mine,” he rotates his hips, brushing his cock against Theon’s again.

Theon’s body is on fire. He’s so turned on he can’t help it, he’s leaking precome already. “Yours,” he mumbles into Robb’s kiss. He pushes back into Robb’s groin.

“Well look at the time,” Jon stands up to leave but Robb grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down.

“Not so fast,” He never looks at Jon, just keeps his focus on Theon. “You’re part of this too, I think you should watch,” he squeezes a little tighter. “After all, you’re hard as a rock and not very good at hiding it.”

Jon blinks, moving his eyes between Theon and Robb but doesn’t say anything, just rubs his hand over the tented bulge in his trunks. Theon reaches over and slides his hand down Jon’s arm. Robb pulls it back and shoves it between them. “He can watch. No touching,” Robb claims Theon’s mouth again, his tongue swiping inside and tasting the dregs of whiskey and beer on him.

“Focus,” Robb tells Theon as he makes his way over his jaw and down to his neck. He sucks and licks the long muscle as he makes his way to the hollow at the base of his throat. He stops and laves his tongue, swirling around it before sucking the tender flesh, hard. Theon throws his head back and moans.

“Christ,” Theon grabs at Robb’s shoulders, his hips snapping and rotating into Robb’s crotch. “Need you,” he’s begging and Robb likes the sounds of that.

Robb slips his hand between them and pushes it down inside of Theon’s shorts, taking hold of his cock. He thumbs over the wet slit smearing the precome over the tip. Theon bucks into the touch, his body instinctively trying for more friction.

Robb slips his hand down and strokes over Theon’s cock, stripping it with rough-quick pulls.

Theon breathes out as he’s rocking into the harsh strokes.

They’re oblivious to Jon, lost in their own little world as he watches Robb showing Theon who’s boss. His hand slips down inside of his trunks and starts to work over his cock.

Theon cranes his neck to give Robb more room to work. Robb’s precome slicked fingers slip down under Theon’s balls and over his perineum to his ass. He circles the pucker with his index finger, the wet mess smoothing over the opening as he pushes at it. Theon’s body relaxes as Robb teases the tight ring, coaxing it to let go. “Oh, god,” Theon’s voice is only a quiet hot whisper.

Robb pushes in, slides his entire finger inside of Theon’s hole and pumps slowly. Theon almost comes apart under him. He’s bucking and moaning as he rocks on Robb’s finger. “That’s it,” Robb whispers as he slides a second finger inside, twisting and scissoring his lover open. “Gonna make you take my cock next,” the words are darker. He crooks his fingers and presses on the sweet-spot of Theon’s prostate and Theon whimpers. Robb pulls out, glides his fingers over Theon’s tight balls and then wraps them around his cock again to give it several long pulls. It’s soaking wet with precome and Robb smiles as it coats his palm before removing his hand completely.

Theon whines, his hips still pumping to the now phantom rhythm.

“On your knees,” Robb stands up, he notices Jon who’s beating off, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes heavily. “Enjoying the view?” he’s taunting Jon, now.

“For sure,” Jon manages to get out.

Theon turns over onto his knees, his ass in the air as he hangs over the back of the sofa. Robb takes off his own shorts. His cock is hard and leaking clear sticky. He gives it several long strokes. He hears a quiet moan coming from Jon and it makes him smile. He pulls Theon’s shorts down to his knees and admires the round pert cheeks, pushed up and begging to be split open. He smacks the right cheek and enjoys the sound it elicits from Theon as he wiggles his ass, begging for more.

There’s a bottle of lotion on the table beside them, and Robb slicks up his cock with it, and then squirts a liberal amount over Theon’s entrance. He works it inside of him, twisting his fingers inside of the loosened hole. Theon pushes into Robb’s finger.

“I need more,” Theon moans. He spreads his own cheeks open and flexes around Robb’s finger. Robb slips his finger out and lines up his cock. He pushes in, the head breaching the opening, sliding all the way in until he’s bottomed out. “Oh fuck,” Theon cries out.

Robb starts moving, his hips thrusting as he fucks Theon. “Know who owns this ass,” he asks Theon. His hands are gripping Theon’s hips hard and pulling him in.

“You,” Theon says. “You own my ass,” he’s clutching the back of the sofa until his knuckles turn white.

“Exactly,” Robb pounds harder, his hips jack-hammering into Theon’s body, causing his whole body to flail wildly into the furniture.

Jon’s rotating his hips. He’s slid down to the point that he’s on the edge of the sofa. His eyes are transfixed on Robb’s pelvis as it does it’s best to destroy Theon. He’s biting his lower lip and stripping his cock.

Theon curses when Robb pounds his prostate. Theon’s cock is leaking. His knees are digging into the thin cushion as he arches his back and moves in time with Robb’s thrusts.

“Come for me baby,” Robb commands. He knows that Theon’s close, he can tell by the way he’s breathing. He looks over at Jon who is groaning, his hand is moving so fast he has to be ready to come. “Beat Theon off,” he says in a rough voice to Jon.

“Uh,” Jon stammers shyly, his hand slowing like he’s trying process the request.

“Get- him- the- fuck -off,” Robb urges again.

“Okay,” Jon reaches under Theon and starts to stroke over his cock. His hand is still working over his own and it’s like the action is more than he can take, he grunts hard, a wet spot pooling at the end of his dick and he exhales hard. His hand slows and he’s just working out his own orgasm as he works on making Theon come.

Robb is on edge, his cock is trapped inside of Theon’s flexing ass and he’s ready to come. “Never… make me… teach you… this lesson again,” he tells Theon as he pounds extra hard into his ass with each word.

“Never,” Theon’s voice is wrecked. He’s barely audible from the intense pleasure washing over him. His belly feels like a hot ball of fire as he tries to keep up the pace with Robb and his bastard brother. His balls are tight and he can’t hold back any longer. He comes; it bursts out in a thick explosion, spraying on the couch. He grunts and moans, his legs shake and he arches his back, shoving his ass into Robb’s movements.

“Such a good boy,” Robb grabs Theon’s hair and holds him still. He picks the pace up even more as he power slams into Theon. “You’re mine,” he calls out as he comes. His cock is pumping its load into Theon’s heat. He grits his teeth and grabs a hold of Theon’s ass, digging his nails into the cheeks. “Only… mine.” He finishes coming and slaps both of Theon’s cheeks at the same time. Theon yelps and then relaxes.

Jon’s lax beside them. His hands covered with his own and Theon’s spunk. Robb shoves in beside him and pulls Theon over both of their laps. Theon’s flaccid cock is on display so Robb grabs his swim trunks from the sofa arm and covers it.

“Always mine,” Robb reminds Theon before cradling him and kissing him. He looks at Jon who is only there in spirit at this point. “Remember that,” he nudges Jon’s shoulder and he nods shyly in understanding. “Good.”


	14. Satin/Jon

“Mr.Mormont! Sir, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Satin snickered lightly behind him, his hands roaming Jon's bare chest as the latter tried to swat away his hands.

They were both naked, with Satin's erection snuggled in the cleft of his lover’s ass, who was currently on the phone with his boss. Jon's back was against Satin's chest as he sat in his lap, and Satin took the opportunity of the open neck to bite a couple of love bites into the milky pale skin.

Jon had to bite his lip hard, drawing blood, as to not let his boss hear about the sinful acts happening on the other side of the line. Jon turned his head slightly, and glared at Satin, who simply stared back with wide, innocent eyes.

“Of course, sir.” Jon responded to something that Mormont said, nodding his head absentmindedly. Satin grinned wickedly as he made it his goal to make Jon moan with his boss on the line.

He trailed open mouth kisses alongside Jon's neck, softly. Then, he bit harshly, and Satin smirked against his skin as Jon let out a gasp. Mormont must have heard, because Jon said, “I’m perfectly okay, sir. I accidentally stubbed my toe.”

They carried with the conversation, but Satin still had many tricks up his sleeve. He rubbed his hard cock slowly over the soft skin of Jon's bottom, all the while trailing his hands ghostly over Jon’s body. He began picking up in rhythm, as did Jon's breathing. Soon, the pair where humping dryly as Mormont continued speaking over the phone. Jon put the phone away from his mouth as a particularly loud moan escaped his mouth. He decided to just put the phone on speaker, and perch it as far away from the pair as he could while still hearing Mormont's voice clearly.

“-to require a full, five minute speech done by Tuesday for the Convention. Grenn wrote the first draft, but quite honestly, it's utterly disorganized and incoherent.”

“A-Alright, sir.” Jon stuttered as Satin took his cock, pumping slowly, teasingly. “I’ll email you the final draft no later than Monday night.”

“Thank you, Mr.Snow.” Mormont responded, “That will be all for today. Until tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jon said, eyes shut as Satin's fingers teased his raw hole. “Until tomorrow.”

Jon picked himself up from Satin's lap, ass in the air as he reached for the phone. Satin couldn't help but place his tongue on his entrance, licking around the hole before entering. Jon had to bury his face on the bed to prevent the loud yelp from reaching the phone. Mormont's voice broke through the speakers before Jon could hang up, “And Snow?”

“Y-Yes, sir?”

“Please refrain from having sex while talking to me. I'm sure Satin enjoys it, but I certainly don't.” Mormont chuckled as Jon stuttered, face bright red as Satin laughed loudly.


	15. Rickon/Tommen

“Bye,” Rickon mumbled against Tommen's lips, the shorter of the two groaning as he had to pull away. If they continued, Tommen would be late for work, and they certainly did not want to repeat what had happen last time. Tommen had received more than enough embarrassment when he came into the office late one day, in disarray, and received multiple whistles and much teasing when his workers noticed the blossoming hickey peaking from the top of his shirt.

When he retold the story to Rickon in their bedroom, Rickon couldn’t help the smug grin that appeared in his face, which was later replaced by a look of complete pleasure.

Tommen grabbed his coat from where it laid in the sofa and swiftly kissed Rickon once again. He pulled away, and breathlessly whispered with blush on his cheeks, “see you later.”

Then he walked out the door leaving Rickon breathing heavily. The room seemed far too hot for his enjoyment, and so he decided to take a shower.

He realized it was a wrong idea once he started undressing.

Dark bruises adorned his collarbone, the exact same size of Tommen's mouth. There was a smaller trail of hickeys that led downward until they stopped in the inside of his thigh. His mind started to wonder back to the events of the past night; how Tommen had trailed his tongue down his body, how he had engulfed his length with those cherry lips of his, how his mouth produced sinful sounds as Rickon entered his heat, how his nails raked down his back as their hips slammed with each other...

A small moan escaped his mouth when he entered the refreshing shower, and a new problem. Rickon let the water run down his back, eyes closed, as he felt a satisfying stinging against the raw scratches that Tommen had made. He pressed against one of the bruises near his chest, hissing slightly since  _this_ certain pain brought him a specific kind of pleasure.

Rickon sighed as he leaned back towards the cold tiles of the shower, and tried to ignore his… problem as he tried to shower. He poured shampoo into the pads of his fingers, and thought of how those same fingers got the privilege of touching Tommen, making him produce the most unholy sounds as he caressed his body, his fingers traveling down his body and entering…

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but he now felt far too hot to do anything else but increase that warmth over his body. And yet, he still tried to rub the shampoo into his damp red curls, scratching his scalp gently, imagining that it was Tommen running his fingers through his curls, pulling and scratching…

 _Jesus fucking Christ,_ he thought as he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Rickon finally gave up any stupid restrain he put on himself, and wrapped his hand around his hard cock. He kept his eyes closed, rubbing slowly at first, and then started to speed up as he began thinking of his wonderfully hot boyfriend.

Tommen, who always left bruises in his body as a reminder of their lustful acts of passion. Tommen, who always knew how to kiss Rickon to bring him the most possible pleasure. Tommen, who would embrace his cock with his tight walls as Rickon rocked into him.

Tommen, who knew how to make Rickon feel utterly and completely loved.

By this point, Rickon was moaning as he pumped his hand up and down his cock, his other hand supporting himself from falling to the floor. He rubbed and rubbed, imagining that it was Tommen's hole that enveloping his dick instead of his hand. He imagined the sinfully loud moans that would break from within Tommen as pleasure shot through his body. He imagined the scream that would erupt from Tommen as his hole tightened around his dick as he hit his prostate constantly, and how Tommen would come in a loud scream as his body trembled beneath Rickon. The mere sight of Tommen’s blissed, satisfied face was enough to make Rickon come seconds later with a large moan, his lips forming one single name.

Rickon came with a moan of Tommen's name against the white tiles of the wall. He slumped as he tried to regain his breathing, the water still hitting the back of his eyelids. He finally opened his eyes minutes later, and frowned at the mess he made.

 _Oh well,_ he thought, a grin on his face,  _it was worth it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know how I feel about this parring???


	16. Gendry/Arya

Gendry figured the amusement park would be a great place for Arya to actually unwind.

“Would you chill out?” he chuckles, handing Arya his frozen yoghurt. “What now?”

“C’mon, let’s go scope out some rides or something. Nobody can be this miserable at an amusement park, Arya.”

“I can,” Arya grumbles, but she looks like she’s fighting back a smile. “Stop making me laugh. I’m moody.”

“I know you’re moody, I’ve been with you for a year now,” Gendry says with a smile. “That’s exactly why you’re here. No worrying about school or anything else. Just chill.”

“I don’t know how to just chill.”

“Okay.” Gendry steals the mouthful of frozen yoghurt Arya was about to eat, ignoring the outrage on her face, and says, “how ‘bout you finish that and we go find something to ride?”

“Like what?”

“Like The Giant Thingy,” Gendry snickers, watching Arya’s face light up. “It’s the highest ride here. Slowly takes you a mile and a half in the air and drops you in less than a second.”

Arya looks gleefully at that.

So they finish Arya’s frozen yoghurt between them - much to Arya’s disgust - and then head for The Giant Drop. Arya stares up at it eagerly as it drops to the ground, carrying eight screaming passengers on the way.

“That. Looks. Awesome.”

“It is.” Gendry throws their container in the bin. “C’mon.”

He only realizes that this ride may be a problem when they reach the height stick before the line. He hesitates, but stops Arya before he goes to line up - he has a really bad feeling that Arya might not actually be tall enough, and if she isn’t, well, Gendry doesn’t want to get to the front of the line and realize it there.

“Stand here,” he says, grabbing Arya’s shoulders.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Arya mutters, but she stands with his shoulders squared back. “I’m not a kid.”

She might not be. But that doesn’t change the fact that Arya’s not tall enough to get on The Giant Drop. The height requirement specifies at least five foot six… and Arya, who’s not done growing, is only just scraping five foot four.

“You’re joking,” Arya says incredulously, and Gendry realizes he’s read the expression on her face. “You’re actually joking right now.”

“Sorry,” Gendry murmurs, wincing.

Arya whips around and stares at the sign with indignation written all over her face. “What?” she squawks. “Five foot six?! I know guys that are way shorter than that!”

“Arya-”

“’Must be this tall to ride’, my ass!” Arya splutters furiously.

“How ‘bout we find another ride?”

“I’m not even five foot six!”

“You will be next year,” Gendry says hopefully, well aware of the fact that he sounds like he’s begging. “Arya, this isn’t a fight you can win. C’mon. Let’s go find another ride.”

“I’m going to set this ride on fire,” Arya mutters mutinously, turning on her heels and stalking away. Gendry follows her, smiling and trying not to laugh.

“What can I even get on?” Arya moans.

“Me?” Gendry asks hopefully, and Arya shoves him bodily into a kiddy pool. She might be short, but she’s pretty fucking sturdy for a sixteen year old.

“Okay,” Gendry chuckles, climbing out of the pool and shaking himself off. “How about the teacups?”

“I’m going to kill you, Gendry.”


	17. Renly/Loras

While Renly generally liked his job, there were certain things that irked him about it. For example, sometimes his students simply didn't care enough to pay attention to his lessons, talked over him in class or just generally acted up like the hormonal little shits high school students often were. Most tedious of all, though, was the paperwork.

Before they had adopted, Renly would have quite happily took his marking home with him – that way he could at least relax in his own study. It's a bit hard to mark, however, when you have a hyperactive five year old daughter clawing at your door for your attention, and your husband entirely too busy dealing with a hungry four month old baby boy to pull her away. Not that Renly would have it any other way. He loved his family dearly, of course. It just meant that he had to stay a little later in school, and that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

He was in the middle of marking a particularly irritating essay (because seriously, Rickon, how hard is it to use simple punctuation?) when he heard his door creek open. Renly let out a soft sigh, turning to scold whoever the fuck was interrupting him (because seriously, who doesn't bother to knock?) when the sight at the door gave him pause.

“Loras?”

The younger man grinned at him, leaning against the door frame. “Hey, babe.”

Closing the door behind him with a soft  _thump_ , Loras made his way over to the other man, bending over to greet Renly with a soft peck to the lips.

“What are you doing here?” Renly asked, taken aback. Then, “actually, more importantly, where the hell are our children?”

Loras chuckled. “Relax, Arya picked them up about an hour ago. She said she figured we could use a break, but I honestly just think she was bored and lonely.”

Renly blinked. “Gendry's working away again?”

Sighing, Loras nodded. “He'll be away for a few weeks.”

Chewing his pen thoughtfully, Renly considered (not for the first time) attempting to find Gendry a job at the school. While he made a pretty good living for Arya and himself as a delivery driver, surely Arya's partner would much rather be stationed at home – he certainly complained about being away from her often enough.

Perching himself on the edge of Renly's desk, Loras watched his husband carefully.

“What are you doing?” Renly asked.

“You look tired,” Loras replied, a concerned expression etched on his angelic face.

It was true – the fatigue had pretty much overtaken him. His entire body felt heavy, and his eyes had drooped several times during marking. Still, though, these assignments were due to be handed back tomorrow and Renly sure as shit wasn't planning on going back on his word.

Cupping Renly's jaw with one hand, Loras frowned. “Why don't you take a break?”

“I- I don't- I need to finish this for tomorrow.”

“A short break, then.”

“Loras,” Renly warned, pulling the essay back in front of him, idly tapping his pen on the desk.

Without warning, Loras carefully moved the essay piles so that he could move around the desk, using his legs to pull Renly's chair, the wheels squeaking underneath him, so that he was no longer in front of the essay, but between Loras' soft, warm thighs instead.

“Did you seriously come all this way to seduce me?” Renly asked, eyebrows raised.

Sliding himself from the desk onto Renly's lap and winding his arms around the back of his neck, Loras smirked suggestively, causing Renly to groan with frustration. “Loras, seriously, I need to work.”

“I hear you, babe.” Loras said, shuffling from Renly's lap until he was kneeling on the floor in front of him, golden eyes gazing up at Renly intently. Warmth flooded his groin at the sight – Loras, on his knees, long fingers trailing up and down his thigh lazily. His pants were beginning to feel unnecessarily tight. “Just you keep on marking. I'll wait right here.”

Oh, Renly was so onto him.

Nevertheless, he made a move to pull the essay back in front of him, only to freeze again as he felt the hands on his lap move to his zipper. “Loras,” Renly groaned. “Fuck.”

“Now now, Mr Baratheon, I believe you were supposed to be working. Don't mind me, I'll find something to do down here.”

That little shit. Feeling the scrunch of the paper below his clenching hand, Renly let out a whine.

Well, shit. He'd have to make some sort of excuse about the condition of the essay when he handed it back the following day. Still, Renly argued, it might have even improved it a little.

All thoughts were drawn away from the essay in front of him when he felt Loras pull his hard cock out of his pants, proceeding to stroke up and down playfully, without adding enough friction to truly ease his frustration. Renly gulped, attempting to turn his attention back to his work. (God, he wouldn't be able to look his students in the eye tomorrow at this rate).

Then, without preamble, he was engulfed in the wet heat of Loras’ mouth, causing Renly to jolt, his pen shooting across the page without warning, leaving a thick red line.  _Shit_.

Marking completely torn from his mind now, Renly bit back a moan as he gave into temptation, looking down at his husband who was smirking around his dick, beautiful golden eyes staring innocently back up at him. “I hate you,” Renly grunted, dropping his pen completely and moving his hands to the back of Loras’ head, raking his fingers into his curls he loves so much then closing them to grip on. Loras just hummed non-committally, the vibrations causing Renly's brain to short-circuit entirely.

He was slick with Loras’ saliva, Loras swirling his tongue around the head, before bringing Renly deeper, his cheeks hollowed as he bobbed his head a few times. Panting heavily, Renly attempted to use every ounce of self-control he had not to just fuck into the heat – not that Loras couldn't handle it.

Still, as he watched Loras, lips swollen around his dick, hands splayed on the base of his stomach just underneath his shirt, he could think of something else he wanted to do to the other man at that moment.

“On the desk,” Renly growled, tugging on Loras’ curls so that he came off Renly's cock entirely with a  _pop_ , gazing up at him with feigned innocence.

“Are you going to fuck me, Mr Baratheon?” Loras asked, a tilt to his lips, leaning back into Renly's groin, licking his lips before using his tongue to draw a stripe from the base to his slit, causing Renly to hiss and squirm in his seat.

“I said,” Renly grunted, pulling Loras up to his feet as he stood to tower over the younger man. “Get on the fucking desk.”

Loras shuddered with delight, gripping onto Renly's hips and placing light kisses on his neck, biting softly on his lobe before whispering darkly into Renly's ear, “How do you want me,  _sir_?”

In a matter of seconds, Renly flipped Loras so that he was bent over the desk, fingers scraping the wood, skin prickling with pure  _want_. “You are a little shit, you know that? You have no fucking idea what you do to me.” Renly snarled, setting a tight grip on Loras' hips, leaning against him so that his erection was pressed firmly against his husband, Loras keening desperately for him now.

Pulling Loras up so that they were standing in front of the desk, back-to-chest, Renly fumbled roughly with the other man's zipper, sucking bruising marks into his neck. Once Loras’ pants were firmly draped around his ankles, Renly splayed his hand on Loras' back, bending him back over, taking a moment to feast his eyes on the delicious sight.

Loras lay with the side of his cheek planted against the wood, plaid shirt riding up so that his lower back was in view, his skin slick with sweat, completely flushed. He was taking short gasps as Renly gripped back on his curls, trembling with anticipation.

It was then that Renly spotted it. Drawing in a breath, he ran his fingers over the plug, closing his eyes for a few seconds in attempt to compose himself. Fuck, at this rate he was going to blow his load all over the desk, without even getting the chance to be inside of Loras. Loras let out a loud groan at the pressure of Renly's fingers.

“What is this, Loras?” Renly demanded, pulling Loras up by the hair so that the younger man was turned to meet his gaze.

“It-” his breath hitched as Renly tugged on the plug, before pulling it from him entirely. “It's a butt plug, sir.”

“And why exactly are you wearing it?”

“I- I wanted t-to be prepared for you sir.”

Renly groaned, palming Loras’ ass, kneading it gently before pulling on the cheeks to expose the other man's hole to him – still slick with lube. “And are you? Prepared?” This was important, Renly reminded himself. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Loras because he got far too over excited. At times like this, communication was key.

“Yes, sir.” Loras murmured, his face planted back on the desk. “Please- Mr Baratheon- please-”

 _Fuck_.

Without further delay, Renly lined himself up, Loras trembling with need before him. As he sunk into the tight, wet heat, they let out a collective moan, Loras pressing his forehead against the wood, babbling desperately as Renly slowly buried himself up to the hilt.

Pausing for a few seconds, both men panting heavily, Renly waited for Loras to adjust. As big as the plug might have been, Renly was certainly bigger, and he always took care to ensure that Loras was entirely comfortable. As Loras clenched around him though he got the hint, proceeding to fuck into his husband slowly.

God, the feeling of Loras around him – it was almost _too much._ The other man was gasping sinfully before him, moaning beautifully as Renly managed to get a certain angle, making contact with Loras' prostate.

Increasing the rhythm, Renly began to pound into his husband with fiery passion, one hand grasped tightly in Loras' messy curls, the other gripping onto his hip for balance, Loras arching his back, breath jittering, letting out strangled noises as Renly grunted, his nails digging into Loras' hips.

Letting out a cry, Renly felt Loras tense around him, the younger man drowning in pleasure as he spilled his release onto the desk. At the added pressure, Renly yelped, following with a carnal groan as he felt his stomach tighten, ecstasy soaring through him as he reached his climax, tensing inside of Loras before he completely combusted, feeling his seed spill into Loras' tight heat.

Everything was silent for a few minutes as Renly untangled his hands from Loras' hair, trailing his other hand from his hips so that he could brush his palms over the back of Loras’ hands, lacing their fingers together on the desk. He draped himself limply over his husband's back, both men completely breathless and fucked out.

“Fuck,” Renly breathed into Loras’ neck, heart still pounding in his chest.

“That was the general idea, yes.” Loras replied with a soft chuckle, squeezing Renly's fingers gently.

Kissing his husband softly on the back of the neck, Renly drew himself away, Loras hissing as he pulled out. “Sorry, baby.” Renly soothed, before lifting the plug, running it over the come running down Loras’ leg. “Can't have you making a mess on the way home, hm?”

“No, sir.” Loras sighed, much more calm and collected now. Still, he stifled a soft sob as Renly pushed the plug back into him as gently as possible, his own come ensuring easy passage.

“Plus, you've got to keep yourself prepared for me. I'm not done with you quite yet, babe.” Loras jolted as Renly lay a soft smack to his butt, before proceeding to zip himself back up.

After cleaning the desk with the tissues that he (thankfully) kept in his drawer, Renly returned to his marking, Loras drawing a chair beside him, leaning against him and nuzzling him softly. Still riding high of the adrenaline, he managed to finish the rest of his marking pretty quickly.

(All the students were pretty pleased with their grades the next day, joking that their teacher must have been in a particularly good mood while he was marking. Renly felt himself blush, clearing his throat and turning himself back to the board after the remark was made, launching into a rant about the proper use of semi-colons and desperately trying to fight the image in his head of his husband bent over his desk the previous evening.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me some Renly and Loras


	18. Theon/Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, Theon and Robb are not really brothers, Theon is adopted, its not really incest right???

“When do you plan to enlist?” Robb asks, his eyes falling to the fishing rod held loosely in his hands. They’ve been in the small boat for a while now and they haven’t caught anything yet.

“As soon as I turn 18,” Theon answers, trying to ignore the sad, bitter sound of Robb’s voice, the way it cracked at the end of the question. He’s not doing a good job.

Theon informed his family of his plans to join the Confederacy three days ago, Cat was fine with it, Ned gave him a proud look and Robb has barely spoken to him since. He’s caught Robb watching him countless times in the past few days, has seen Robb’s mouth open to say _something_ , but then closes it and looks away.

He thought fishing might be a good idea – it usually puts Robb in a good mood. The warmth of the sun and the calming waters always puts a smile on his brother’s face. It’s different this time though.

“It can’t be a good—“ Robb stops himself, biting his lip as his brow furrows.

“What?”

“The Confederacy is losing.”

“We still have a responsibility.”

“ _You’re_ talking about responsibility?” Robb asks, heat in his voice and if it wasn’t such a serious discussion, Theon would roll his eyes at how petty his little brother sounds.

“I don’t care about the responsibility to the Confederacy. I’m talking about the responsibility to the family.” Theon throws his own line back into the water. “And if we win the war, the Starks could very well be an important family of the new country. How would it look if their son, old enough for war, didn’t fight?”

“The Conscription… you don’t have to go until you’re 20.”

“What 18-year-old isn’t getting their parents’ written permission to enlist?”

Robb is still avoiding his eyes, and it’s just as well since Theon doesn’t think he can bear to face all of that sadness. Theon looks at his brother, sees a drop of sweat trickling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. The heavy, humid warmth of the summer air makes Robb’s white shirt cling to the curvature of his back. He wants to trace his index finger over the lines of muscle, the desire almost overtaking him, but he buries it and the guilt that it brings with it with a deep breath.

“I’m bored,” Theon says, trying to write off what just passed – the conversation, the strange longing. “Nothing is catching anyways. Want to run?”

“Sure,” Robb answers, hastily putting the rod back in the boat and grabbing an oar to get them to the shoreline.

“We don’t have to run. It’s hot.”

“It’s fine.”

Theon is aware that his brother is far from fine, upset by Theon’s news of enlisting, but he doesn’t answer.

They row the boat to the shore, getting into the shallow waters to tie it off to a nearby tree. Theon dries his feet before sticking them his shoes and then throws the cloth to Robb so that he can do the same.

“A race, little brother?”

Robb nods without a word.

“Excellent.” He looks at Robb, the gaze prolonged while both of their bodies tense up to begin. “Go.” Both of the brothers take off, the constant ducking under and between branches slows them down slightly, but they have always been fast runners. There is never an undefeated winner when they race – it is surprising if one wins a few times in a row, and Theon loves that. He loves not knowing who is going to win, who will have to give in.

And sometimes they play dirty – throwing something small to make the other trip or trying to get the other’s attention on anything but the run. Well, maybe it’s just Theon who does that.

Maybe its anger and frustration that is driving him, but Robb is already getting a good lead and Theon just isn’t having that. Theon calls Robb’s name, something neither of them ever does during a run, knowing it will tilt his brother off balance. Robb turns for a moment, still running, but just the second that it takes to look back slows him down a bit.

They’re reaching the end of their track; the finish line being a tree that they used to climb when they were younger. Theon gets close enough to Robb to touch, so he does, almost jumping onto his back and tumbling them both to the ground.

“Ow, damn it,” Robb says, and Theon sits up and turns his brother around so that Robb is lying on his back. Theon straddles him and he grabs the lapel of Robb’s shirt in his fist.

“Did I hurt you?” Theon asks, a tiny bit of fear pulsing through his blood stream as his brother coughs.

Robb shakes his head. “Just knocked the wind out of me.” Robb coughs again. “Cheater. I still won.”

Theon smirks. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, little brother.”

Robb brings his hand up to punch him, though only playfully since he is smiling (smiling for the first time in _days_ ), but Theon grabs both of his wrists and pins them to the soil.

They are both breathing hard – exerted from the run. Theon feels Robb’s pulse against his palms that beats completely out of rhythm with his own, but still just as fast. He looks at Robb’s eyes, blue and warm, so unlike his own, icy and blue. Robb licks his lips, and Theon could swear that Robb’s eyes move to Theon’s mouth as he does so.

Theon shifts to get up, though his hands are still on Robb’s wrists, and as his hips slide against his brothers’, he feels Robb’s dick hot and hard between his thighs. Theon’s eyes fly to Robb’s face, panic and confusion gripping him, blood rushing toward his own cock, and he finally releases Robb’s wrists and tries to get up.

He can’t though, because Robb’s hand is suddenly reaching up and cupping the back of his neck, pulling Theon down to meet him before timidly kissing Theon’s lips. Theon groans, his thoughts jumbled and his blood spiked with fear and adrenaline, and he kisses back.

The sigh Robb makes as Theon licks Robb’s bottom lip makes him shiver, and the feeling of Robb’s tongue against his own is enough to make him dizzy. Theon should be thinking _wrong, wrong, wrong_ , should be pushing his _baby brother_ away from him, and asking Robb what the hell is wrong with him. He can’t though. Robb’s warm against him, his lips soft, yet demanding against his own, and Theon is lost.

Robb’s hands slide against Theon’s chest, fingers sliding over his nipples through the linen of his shirt. Theon groans softly at the feel of it, realizing that yes, he can touch Robb too. He can trace every inch of soft skin, roam over every curve of muscle and bone. He can know his brother in this way just as well as he does in every other way.

Theon grabs Robb by the collar of his shirt, sitting up and dragging his brother with him. Their kisses are desperate now, more teeth, more hunger, and he can feel Robb’s anger for leaving him in every bite and caress of tongue. Theon pulls down Robb’s suspenders and untucks Robb’s shirt hastily before yanking it off and throwing it behind his brother.

He has seen Robb without his shirt hundreds of time, but he has never really _looked_ , never noticed the beauty his brother possesses.

“Jesus,” Theon whispers, gazing at pale skin, sprinkled with the occasional freckle and few faded scars from their childhood. But it’s smooth, and as Theon brushes his fingers over his brother’s collarbone, he feels how soft it is.

“You can’t want this too,” Robb breathes, ridding Theon of his own shirt before tangling his fingers in the curls of hair at Theon’s neck.

“Why not?” Theon asks. He leans down and kisses Robb’s jaw line, working his lips down to where Robb’s throat meets his clavicle, licking the skin, sucking it once before biting it softly. “You’re the one who always worries about propriety.”

“You’re the one joining the damn army for the _family name_.”

“Language, Robb. What would all the schoolgirls say, hmm? The ones who think you’re the perfect gentleman?”

“They’d probably blame it on you,” Robb replies before lying down against the soil, his shirt pillowing his head.

“Would they blame this on me too?” Theon asks and reaches into Robb’s pants to curl his hand around his cock. Robb sucks in a breath and closes his eyes while Theon’s hand moves up and down his length slowly.

“Yes,” Robb answers hoarsely.

“If they could see you now,” Theon continues. It’s awkward trying to touch Robb like this, so he unbuttons Robb’s trousers and pulls out his cock. Pre-come drips from the slit, shiny against the pale skin. “Writhing in the dirt while your brother has his way with you.” Theon bends down and licks the fluid from the head, and Robb’s sharp intake of breath makes Theon dizzy with want.

“Want this, yes?” Theon asks him, smiling. He looks up through his lashes to see Robb sitting up, his elbows resting against the dirt, and when their eyes meet, Theon sucks on the head. His tongue presses against the slit, eliciting a groan from Robb, and he finally takes Robb’s length into his mouth.

“Theon,” Robb whispers and his hand falls to Theon’s head, fingers curling in his hair. Theon runs his tongue along the vein of Robb’s dick; let’s the head of the cock hit his throat. Theon’s never done this, doesn’t know the tricks of the trade like he does with women. Robb doesn’t seem to care though, making all these breathy moans that almost make Theon come from just the sound of them.

Theon reaches down to his own cock, freeing it from his pants and tugging it roughly. His brother can’t be far from coming – he’s fifteen and can’t be that experienced (and the thought of Robb being experienced makes icy rage strike his heart). He wants to be there with his brother when he finally finishes.

“Please, _please_ ,” Robb begs, gripping Theon’s hair tightly as Theon’s mouth moves up and down on his cock. And Theon wants to know what he’s begging for -- _more, faster, please don’t leave me_. “Theon, you have to,” he moans again, trying to pull Theon away. “I’m going to—“

Robb’s body arches, come spilling into Theon’s mouth and it’s so sudden that Theon couldn’t get away if he wanted to. But he doesn’t want to. He rubs Robb’s cock with his hand while his mouth moves to cover just the head, his tongue catching and lapping up every drop of come.

“Please, let me touch you, Theon. Haven’t touched you at all.” Robb whines, then hauls Theon up by the shoulders, and his fingers entwine with his brother’s on Theon’s cock. One, two tugs is all it takes, and Theon comes so suddenly that he can’t help the cry that escapes his lips. He watches Robb’s hands on his skin, watches as pearl-white streaks paint Robb’s chest and stomach.

Robb runs his thumb along through it and brings it to his mouth. His eyes never leave Theon’s as he sucks his thumb into his mouth. Theon pushes Robb’s hand away and kisses his brother again. Both of them groan at the taste of each other, and Theon wonders if Robb is pushing down the same guilt that he is.

He wonders if Robb will ever forgive him for leaving; will ever forgive him for doing _this_ to him.

“Just promise me you’ll come back,” Robb says, pulling away to look at his brother; to make sure he’s not lying.

Theon sits up and looks away. “Yes Robb, Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback? :)


	19. Theon/Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update on my fav parring :)

Theon stares up at the ceiling and tries not to move. It's difficult,  _very_  difficult.

Especially when his best friend.

“Ohh _hhh..._ ”

His best  _straight_  friend.

“R-Robb _!_ ”

His best straight friend has his lips  _wrapped around Theon's cock_.

“Jesus fucking – fucking  _christ!_ ”

There is an obscenely wet slurping noise and Theon cannot help but look up. He tries not to. He fights the urge with all his might because no matter the beauty of the sight before him, it's still gonna hurt a little. It's like eating acid-laced chocolate to see Robb lying there with his chin resting on Theon's hipbone, smiling sweetly and licking his lips.

“You okay?” Robb asks curiously, big blue eyes completely guileless, completely ignoring the erection standing tall not two inches from his face. He tilts his head down and brushes his lips softly back and forth, back and forth across the other teen's hipbone without breaking eye-contact and Theon slumps back down.

“Fine,” he grits out, caught somewhere between overwhelming lust, unrequited love, and the sort of pain that makes poets great. This  _thing_  they have going on? This thing where they're friends and it's good – no, it's  _great_  – but that's all they are until Robb's tension ratchets high enough that he just needs to hold Theon down and  _swallow him whole_  is killing him. Robb, for some reason Theon cannot fathom, finds sucking cock to be a great stress reliever. In his mind, it's a win-win: Robb will feel better and Theon will have an awesome orgasms (because Robb is a fucking overachiever and must be the best at absolutely  _everything_ ).

He doesn't realize that it's killing Theon. Theon won't tell him, because if he did then it would end. He knows that hurting him is the  _last_  thing that Robb would  _ever_  want. He also knows that this is the most he'll ever get, and it's better than nothing. Sort of. Maybe. That's probably the hormones talking. Well, the hormones and the fact that it feels like every ounce of blood has rushed to his dick.

He feels wet and warmth and  _suction_  sliding down the length of him and -

“Fffffuuuuu -” he whines, head thrashing against the bed, hands fisted in the sheets.  He's fighting the urge to move again. Because if he fucks Robb's mouth the way he wants to, he'll end up flipping the boy over afterwards so he can reciprocate, and if he ever sees what Robb looks like after an orgasm – he can picture it: pupils blown, pink mouth swollen, panting for a reprieve Theon's not inclined to give him – he'll end up fucking his best friend into the mattress.

And that'll be the end of their friendship.

So he lays there, and he takes it, takes every sensation – Robb's hot mouth, full lips and rough tongue on his dick, hard hands on his thighs – and he hoards it deep in his heart. It's not enough to fix the hurt, it's probably not even enough to balance it out, but he'll take it. That's all he can do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo! i'll still be adding a few more one shots to this, i am working on a few stories, but will not upload them until they're finished!


	20. Theon/Robb + Margaery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo i guess this is kinda the same situation in chapter 18, were as Theon's adopted

"Let's take a walk."

Theon glanced over at Robb from the corner of his eye, holding his breath as he waited for an answer. Robb was lying on his back in the garden, his face pink from exertion, the football hugged against his chest. Robb didn't seem to be listening for a moment, but then he took the piece of grass he'd been chewing out of his mouth and turned his head towards Theon.

"All right, but not for long," Robb said. "I told Lady Margaery I would accompany her on her evening walk when she comes home later."

Robb blushed slightly and looked away, and Theon rolled his eyes. A flash of anger and jealousy went through him and he clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing it again. When she'd refused to meet Theon in the stables after dinner, Margaery had neglected to mention that her 'other plans' were with Robb. Typical.

Tamping down his annoyance, Theon rolled onto his stomach and gave Robb a winning smile.

"Well, come on then," he said, reaching over and tugging the football out of Robb's arms before tossing it in the direction of the back steps. "I bet you can't catch me, brother."

Before Robb could reply, Theon jumped to his feet and darted into the Godswood.

*****

Theon ran and ran towards the springs, just out of reach of Robb, like always. Theon was always faster, always stronger, always louder. He would outrun his brother and leave him behind. That was why Margaery would choose him. Eventually.

He grunted as a heavy weight hit him from behind, knocking him to the earth. They wrestled on the grass until Robb was underneath him, struggling as his chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. Theon laughed as he rolled on his brother, trying to hold him down. He pressed his knee between Robb's thighs for leverage and then froze, his eyes widening as he felt something hard pressing against his leg. Robb went absolutely still and then turned away, his face flushed with shame. Theon watched Robb for a long moment, his heart pounding as he started to understand.

Theon gave Robb a sly smile.

"I want to show you something."

Robb gave him a wary glance, obviously expecting his brother to mock him, but Theon had other plans for his amusement this afternoon.

"What do you mean?" Robb asked.

"Something someone," the name 'Margaery' was on the tip of Theon's tongue, but he didn't want to shatter Robb's illusions about his beloved, not yet at any rate, "a friend—showed me once. You have to… touch-“ Theon pressed his knee demonstratively against the apex of his brother's thighs. " _There_. I will do the rest. You just have to trust me."

"Theon!" Robb flushed a deep red, lowering his gaze. "That's… that's wrong. Septon Chayle said so." But he was panting and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, lingering just a moment too long, and Theon knew then that his little brother would do whatever he wanted.

Robb looked away, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheek, and Theon could hear himself undoing Robb’s trousers. Theon glanced down, spying his brother's cock only briefly before Robb covered it with his hand.

"Don't look," Robb admonished, his gaze stern, and Theon's eyes returned to Robb’s face.

"I won't look," Theon said and looked above Robbs curly head at the steams of the Godswood springs "I promise."

Robb let out a huff of air and then nodded.

"Fine," he said.

Robb stretched out, folding his free arm under his head, his eyes falling closed as Theon started to stroke him. Theon hesitated for a moment and then he put his hand on Robb's throat, snapping his fingers into place, one after the other, and then he  _pressed_.

Robb's eyes flew open and he started to rise in a panic, but Theon shook his head, keeping his grip firm.

" _Trust me_ ," he hissed, not relinquishing his prize, and then Robb nodded, falling back on the grass again. Closing his eyes, Theon started to touch his cock once more.

A sly smile played over Theon's lips as he watch Robb writhing under the pressure of Theon's hand. He memorized every detail: the sweat beading on Robb's brow as he worried his lower lip with his teeth, the whimper—more of a squeak—that he made deep in his throat, the slick sound of Theon's hand stroking Robb’s prick. Maybe, after Margaery's insipid little walk with his brother, Theon would tell her how he and Robb had spent their day. He was sure his tale would be far more amusing than anything Robb could possibly do to entertain a woman like Margaery.

As he gazed at Robb, Theon suddenly realized he could make his little problem go away; he could finish Robb now—just tighten his grip, apply more pressure, and Robb, lost in ecstasy, probably wouldn't even notice. And with Robb gone, Margaery would have to choose Theon, right?

He flexed his hand and he  _did_  tighten his fingers and then Robb went rigid, his free hand clawing at the grass as he found his release, his whimpers turning into soft cries. Once Robb was spent, Theon hesitated for the slightest of moments and then released him, rolling away. His own cock was aching to be touched, but he'd attend to it later. Or let Margaery do it.

When Robb had caught his breath again, Theon stood and then tugged Robb to his feet, straightening his brother's shirt and brushing the grass out of his red hair. Robb looked dazed, his lower lip pink and wet where he'd bitten it.

"You won't… tell?" Robb asked, reaching up to rub his neck, wincing slightly like it was sore.

"Of course not. Who would I tell? Lady Margaery?" Theon gazed at the bruises on Robb throat, wondering what Margaery would say when she saw  _his_  mark on his little brother. Theon's face darkened for a moment and he clenched his fist, imagining that it was still tight around his brother's neck, only Theon wouldn't let go this time. Forcing himself to smile, Theon leaned forward so that his mouth was hovering right over Robb's ear, and, noting the slight shiver that went through Robb, Theon whispered hotly:

"It will be our dirty little secret, brother."

 


	21. Tommen/Rickon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, I cried

They were happy; they were  _happy_. Rickon had asked him to marry him, Tommen had agreed. He loved him, he did. Oh god did he ever love him—but shit happens right?. They were getting married in two months. In two months Tommen couldn’t exactly go about calling himself a Baratheon anymore when he wanted to take Rickon’s name. But Tommen wasn’t meant to have a happy ending.

 

He’d be Tommen Stark and he’d giggle when they’d get mail addressed to  **Mr Stark**  and they’d have to see which one of them it was for. He’d convince Rickon to expand their family with a pet, and maybe they’d eventually listen to Rickon’s parents and have kids. Well, they’d adopt… or get a surrogate. Tommen would be a vet and Rickon would still work for his family’s company and they’d be  _happy_. Why couldn’t they just be happy?!

 

Tommen pulled his keys from the ignition, slamming his door closed behind him as he bolted from his car and up the steps to his house that he shared with his fiancée. He fumbled with the keys, tears blurring as he attempted to find the correct one. He did eventually stumble upon the key, pushing it into the lock and turning the key until it opened. He paused long enough to remove the key from the door before slamming it closed and tossing the keys away—just  _away_.

He stormed through the house, hardly pausing to toss his boots and jacket before entering the bathroom and locking the door behind him. He flicked on the shower; cranking the heat and not bothering to temp it before pulling at the cold handle and twisting. He was in the shower, clothes blossoming with wet patches as he seemed to collapse into a fetal position—like a puppet’s whose strings had been snipped.

  _“Mr. Stark told me that no one is to bother him,” Rickon’s secretary smiled sadly. Tommen leaned in, crossing his arms on the tall desk and setting his chin upon his arms. He looked down at her sadly—_ he was Rickon’s fiancée _, you’d think he wouldn’t’ve minded. The woman leaned in to whisper, “but I don’t think he’d mind if you slipped in for a little kiss. But you have to make it quick, he’s supposed to have a meeting with the heads in about twenty minutes.” She tapped her nose as she settled back against her seat, pointy turning her attention to her computer and Tommen quietly thanked her._ _Tommen and Rickon hadn’t had the time to spend together recently. Tommen had started pulling overnight shifts at the animal hospital that he was interning at as he made his way through his veterinary studies. Rickon had started pulling longer shifts; it was the family business and he had a name to uphold. And just because he was a Stark it didn’t mean he got a free pass. Tommen understood it_ _._ _So, that’s why he was happy to say that he took the night off and was bringing Rickon a homemade dinner before…_ seducing _his fiancée into coming home earlier._

_He’d put on the lace and the stockings. Rickon had a thing for lace—dainty, expensive, luxurious. Things that Tommen wasn’t though he loved the way he looked in them. He was a kid that grew up in a petty family with two older sibilings and a single mother whose husband left his family. Tommen hated that man. He heard from his sister that the man had remarried and that he has children with multiple women. He hopes they’re happy at least, hopes for the kids’ sake._

_Tommen twisted the knob and a smile grew on his face. Sucking in a breath and pushing the door open Tommen’s smile slipped. It fell and shattered along with his heart. He recognized the woman whose breasts Rickon was mouthing at, Elinor Tyrell. Rickon had his pants around his knees as he fucked her on his desk. They never had sex on Rickon’s desk, the most they ever did in this room was a kiss that turned heated. Tommen swallowed, raising his hand with Rickon’s bag of dinner and setting it upon the table he had beside the door._

_The sound of the bag made the two on the desk freeze—it made_ her _freeze and Rickon growl before looking up. Looking up at to see his fiancée close the door quietly. Not a gasp or sob escaping his lips. He had thought about leaving his ring beside the meal but… but that ring reminded him of his most happiest and cherished moment. He wouldn’t lose it yet. He closed the door and bolted. Like a snap of an elastic, Tommen was off. He ignored the way he came and took the stairs. Two floors down the tears began clouding his vision, two floors after that he sank to a stair and cried into his hands._

 

He stripped of his clothes when he finally left the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist and carrying the dripping articles of clothing to the washing machine There was a mixed pile of his and Rickon’s clothes sitting in the hamper to be washed and the blond grabbed those along with the wet ones and added the soap and softener before turning it on. He made a quick detour to collect his keys and jacket and return them to their proper positions.

Tommen slipped into their room; he changed into the articles of clothing he had planned to for that evening. Though, he had added one of his own extra-large T-shirts to cover himself with. Tommen stared at the reflection in the mirror, touching his freckled cheek. He could feel the swell, the tears against his fingertips. His ring shone in the light and he couldn’t help but press his lips to it and wish it was Rickon. He had often taken hold of his hand and would kiss his ring finger even before a ring was added.

 

_A kiss to his nose, to his cheeks, to his eyes. Tommen sighed and pressed their foreheads together. He didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want to think about the event around them that Rickon’s work was hosting. He didn’t want to think that it wasn’t just the two of them pressed together like this. “I want to marry you,” Rickon whispered, “I want to marry you so fucking bad that I haven’t stopped carrying a ring with me for the last three months just in case I decided to finally ask you.” When he opened his eyes, Rickons blue eyes stared back at him. “So, Tommen Baratheon, marry me?”_

_Tommen licked his lips, lips quivering. He nodded. His voice was trapped, stuck deep in his chest and then between their lips as Rickon kissed him. They kissed and kissed. One peck after the other after the other and more still. It was only when Rickon finally fished the box out of his suit jacket that_ _Tommen found his voice and whispered “yes. I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.”_

 

He made a list, opening cabinets and the pantry, he went through the fridge and tossed out the stuff that wasn’t any good anymore before moving on to the freezer. He made a list, writing down their groceries before moving on to the sink and loading up the dishwasher before turning it on and tackling the remaining pots and pans in the sink. He felt numb, he felt cold and dead and  _broken_. He felt…

He unplug the plug and watched as the water drained. Wiping down the sink until not a spot of soap, bubbles or food remained. Wiping down the counters next, Tommen threw out the rag once finished before drying his hands. He left the lone light on above the sink. Plucking the container from the medical cabinet with all their medications, Tommen grabbed a bottle of water and went to bed.

Tommen would be sleeping when Rickon comes home. He’d be tucked up in their bed with that stuffed lion that Rickon had won him at the carnival back when they had just started dating more than five years ago. He’d pull it down from its place in their closet and cuddle with it when he was mad at Rickon instead of cuddling with him that night.

Tommen took his medication and placed the open container on his nightstand. The room was growing dark as the sun began setting and Tommen tucked himself into bed.

Tommen would be sleeping when Rickon gets home.

 

His car was parked in the driveway, his shoes, keys and jacket all in the places he’d leave them. Rickon called out to him, “Tommen!” A panic in his tone. He… he fucked up. He fucked up and then he couldn’t leave, could chase after him like he wanted to. The kitchen light was on and it only spurred him on further into the house.

He stilled outside their door, at the figure in their bed. The covers covering all but his blond curly hair—he could only guess as he crept closer. Tommen like sleeping completely covered in his covers when he had no one to leech warmth from. “Tommen,” Rickon sat on the bed, flicking on the lamp and his heart skipped.

Empty.

He pulled down the sheets, rolling the blond over and shouted. “WHAT DID YOU DO?! TOMMEN WHAT DID YOU DO?!” He gripped his face. He looked so  _sad_. He looked pale. His freckles getting dark upon his pale face. Rickon shook his head. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he dialed the police, the call was a blur or Rickon blabbing their address. He didn’t  _care_ , he didn’t fucking care when he pressed their lips together. Pushing air into his lungs. “Tommen please,” he brushed the blond’s curls back away from his face. “Tommen please don’t leave me, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

 


	22. Renly/Loras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I miss you.

Renly did not know what he was doing here. All he knew was that he could not sit in his chamber room any longer, thinking of Loras. He would go mad.

He paced the palace halls and roamed the gardens, trying to clear his head. And yet somehow he ended up here, inside Loras’ bedchambers.

The guards had given him a strange look before stating that Ser Loras ordered them to not allow anyone entrance. Renly silenced them with one look before stepping passed them and knocking on the door. He almost hoped he wouldn’t answer, because he had no idea what he was going to say if he did.

And then the door opened, and Renly found himself breathless at the sight of Loras before him. He tried to control his reaction, but he doubted that he had done a good job of it.

Unlike Renly, Loras’ gaze was flat. He shot an irritated look at his guards before his gaze fell back on Renly’s. “Great,” he said, his tone dry.

Renly cleared his throat, unsure what to say. “May I come in?” he asked.

Loras’ gaze remained the same, but he took a step back. “Certainly, Your Grace.”

Renly stepped in, closing the door behind him. He had hope of hearing Loras say his name, in some faraway part of his mind, but not this.

They stood before each other now, the only noise in the room coming from the howling night wind.

When it was clear that Renly was content with just watching him, Loras raised an impatient brow. “What?” he asked icily.

Renly bristled, although he was growing used to the impersonal way Loras now spoke to him. He looked around the room before looking back at Loras. “I… I’ve come to talk,” he said.

“Talk,” Loras repeated. When Renly said nothing, he raised his brow again. “What? No whores to entertain His Grace?”

Renly raised his eyes slowly. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” he ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of what he could say. “To see how you were feeling.”

Loras raised both eyebrows at that, but his face remained impassive. “My thoughtful King.” His face gave away nothing, and Renly fought to hear an underlying meaning behind the words. Loras’ eyes scrolled down Renly’s body slowly before making their way back up to his face. Renly felt himself flush, an unnatural reaction for him.

Loras’ face brightened at this, but not in a happy way. “Shy, lover?”

Renly felt himself flinch at the word. It held the same condescending tone as it had the first time. “Don’t,” he said, his voice quiet.

Loras smirked, although it held no humor. “No?” he asked. “Is that not what we were?”

Renly took a deep breath, feeling as if this was a trap. “We,” he began, but stopped when he was unsure how to finish. He looked down at his hands and thought of them on Loras, running down his trembling skin, holding him close as he came in his arms.

He swallowed before speaking again. “I no longer know what I was to you," he said quietly, "but I was yours."

The smirk fell from Loras’ face, and he visibly froze. He looked at Renly sharply and spoke, his voice controlled. “Why are you here?”

Renly shifted, unsure of anything at this point. “I told you, I am here to talk.”

Loras looked at him, his eyes narrow. His gaze was unwavering, and Renly would be uncomfortable if it did not feel so good to be the center of Loras’ attention again.

Loras shut his eyes and remained that way for a few seconds. We he opened them, they looked different.

They looked definitive. Final.

Before Renly could say anything more, Loras stepped forward. His movement was sharp, deliberate. “What are you…” Renly muttered, caught off guard by Loras’ sudden movement. He watched him carefully as Loras reached out towards him, unsure of what he was doing.

And then, suddenly, his Bed Clothes were taken off him in a quick swoop. His body froze as if he was doused in ice water as he looked at his clothes on the floor.

Loras stood before Renly, his entire body contradicting itself. His jaw was set, but his breathing was labored. His eyes were narrowed, but his gaze was hot. Before Renly could step forward or react, Loras reached for his tunic.

Slowly, meticulously, he began to unlace the knots. Renly’s eyes widened and his breathing picked up as he watched Loras pull at them effortlessly. He pulled his garments off, and began to kick his boots off in a quick, uncharacteristic way.

Renly wanted to speak, but he could form no words. He found himself speechless, both from confusion and arousal.

It was when Loras reached for his pants that words came back to Renly. “Stop,” he said. “I- I don’t… This isn’t what I am here for.”

Loras’ hands remained at the laces of his pants as he laughed, a cold and empty sound. “No?” He asked, his tone sardonic. “Suddenly I am not good enough to fuck?”

“That is not-“ Renly ran his hands down his face, trying to control his breathing. He had no idea what was happening, no idea how it got to this point. He could feel his cock hardening, and the throbbing only made it harder to think.

He wanted this. He knew with every fiber of his being that he wanted Loras. Wanted to pull him into the sheets and spend hours inside him, kissing every inch of his body with his soft, sweet pants filling his ears, but he could not do this. Not like this. Loras was not himself. He was angry and he was hurt. Renly had hurt him enough.

“I don’t-,“ he began, but his words cut off as Loras began to pull his pants down. Renly could feel his restraint slipping away as Loras kicked his pants to the side and he stood before him naked.

His eyes lowered and he felt his pulse pound when he saw that Loras was hard. His gaze remained there and he inhaled slowly, feeling light with the realization that Loras wanted this. Some part of him wanted this.

He lifted his eyes back to Loras’ and he spoke past the dryness in his throat. “Loras-,” he breathed.

“Don’t speak,” Loras said, his voice a hard command. “I do not want to hear you.” he stepped forward, closing off the distance between them. Renly opened his mouth to say something, anything, but stopped immediately when he felt Loras’ hand on his cock.

Renly gasped, his head falling back. He felt all the tension in his body loosen as he went slack in Loras’ grasp, falling back onto the wall. Everything was a blur, nothing around him in focus other than the feeling of Loras’ thumb rubbing across hit slit, his palm running down his shaft. He closed his fingers around Renly’s cock and began to move his wrist, pumping Renly slowly.

Renly’s entire body shook, and he felt as if this was the first time he was being touched this way. He licked his lips and pressed his palms into the wall behind him, the stone cool on his touch.

“Loras,” he gasped.

“I told you to be quiet,” Loras said, his movements getting quicker. His hand moved up and down Renly’s cock, his grip tightening. His fingers were soft on him, his touch warm, unlike his cold gaze.

Renly’s eyes were closed tightly, and he felt the familiar pressure in his body that he felt when he was close. He was about to push Loras’ hand off, wanting to be inside him when he came, when the sensation stopped.

He remained on the wall for a few more seconds, allowing his heart rate to slow back down before opening his eyes. He saw Loras sitting in the middle of the bed, his gaze on Renly’s, daring.

He watched Loras without moving, waiting for him to tell him what to do. When Loras said nothing, he pushed off the wall and took the few steps to the bed, tentatively.

He stood before him at the edge, feeling as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest. When Loras remained silent, he lowered himself to the bed, on his knees before him.

He shifted forward slightly, closing off their distance until their knees touched. Renly looked down at that, Loras’ skin looking pale white and silky in the moonlight. He looked back up, the silence palpable.

They gazed at each other, the moment still between them. Renly’s heart felt heavy as he stared into Loras’ eyes, dark and unwavering. It felt as if it had been so long since he had looked into them. So long since they were together.

He reached out, and it was then that Loras rolled onto his stomach. He braced his arms beneath him and lifted his body slightly so he was on his hands and knees, his eyes on the wall.

Renly swallowed past the lump in his throat and when he spoke, his voice reflected the way he felt. “Please,” he whispered. “Turn over.”

Loras remained the way he was, his shoulders set. “I do not want to look at you,” he said. His voice was hard. Final.

Renly sat back on his heels and tried to think past the pounding of his heart. Loras acted as if he hated him, as if he wanted nothing to do with him, yet here he was. Loras did anything he did not want to do. Every action had a dozen motives. Despite his words, he wanted this. He wanted Renly, at lease for now, and Renly was going to take whatever Loras was willing to give him.

He reached beside the bed and picked up one of the bottles of oil. He removed the top and dipped his fingers inside, coating them liberally. He reached for his cock and exhaled slowly at the contact, spreading the oil around his entire length. His eyes stayed on Loras and he could see that he was tense, the way he was their first time together. He wanted to turn him onto his back as he did then and hold their hands above his head, their eyes on each other.

But that wasn’t what Loras wanted, and he needed this to be as good for him as possible. Loras was giving him this, and he would give him back whatever he could.

He placed a hand on Loras’ waist, his skin as soft as he remembered. He caressed the skin lightly as he placed his oiled fingers at his hole, rubbing him slowly. He inserted one finger smoothly and felt his body tremble at the tightness around him. He moved his finger in and out before slipping another one in, feeling Loras stretch around him. He moved his hand slowly, relishing in the feeling.

A few moments passed before Loras spoke. “Enough,” he pushed out. “Get on with it.” His words were harsh, but his tone was not. Despite his efforts, they came out shaky, showing that he was not as in control of the moment as he was leading Renly to believe.

Renly clung to that as he took a hold of his oiled cock. He placed himself at Loras’ entrance and then slowly, painfully, he pushed himself in.

His eyes fell shut as all of the breath left his body. He felt powerless at that moment and he knew that nothing would ever compare to this feeling. No one could ever make him feel like this again.

Loras let out a sound, so soft that he knew he was trying to mask it from Renly. His back remained tense, but his head had dropped forward, his shoulders rising and falling. Renly felt his chest heaving as he began to move, his thrusts pressing their hips together. He dropped his forehead onto Loras’ neck, behind his curls and inhaled, his entire body coming alive at the feeling of Loras’ body beneath his, his flesh squeezing around Renly’s cock, dragging against his skin as he pushed into him.

He felt like his heart was expanding with every press. He was overwhelmed with it, overwhelmed with how it felt to have Loras back in his arms. He wrapped himself around Loras’ chest and pressed his face into his neck, breathing in slow, shallow gasps. He felt driven by the need to hold onto this moment and make it last as long as he could, because he knew it would stay with him for the rest of his life.

He continued to rock his hips, achingly slow. His moves were delicate, his touches light. He remembered the way Loras fell apart beneath his soft kisses, showing him a gentle side he had never seen before. Renly sat up, but to go forward and pressed soft, deliberate kisses on his back, working his way up his spine. Loras’ body shook beneath his and he tried to focus on that, on his soft panting, instead of the growing pressure in his chest.

He continued his trail of kisses until he reached his neck where his curls rested, moving slightly with their body’s movements. He brushed it aside and pressed his lips on the soft skin, letting them linger there. He could not see Loras’ face from this angle, but he had the sheets clutched tightly in fists, his knuckles white.

“ _Loras_ ,” he whispered, a soft caress.

Loras did not respond, but he continued to move his body, pressing his soft arse back into Renly’s hips. They rocked against each other, their rhythm breathless and tender. Everything blurred together as their bodies moved as one. Renly felt Loras clench around him just as he felt the building pressure in his stomach, and he felt helpless as their time together started to slip out of his fingers.  _Not yet_ , he thought.  _I'm not ready to let go yet_.

He felt Loras’ body begin to shake and he pressed himself to him, holding him as close as he could as he dropped his head to Loras’ shoulder, finding his release along with him.

“I miss you,” Renly said, the words falling from his mouth without thought. “I miss you so much. I’m so sorry,” his body shook, his grip on Loras tightening. “I wish I could change everything. I wish it wasn’t like this.”

Loras’ body gave out and he fell onto the bed, his breathing ragged. Renly collapsed next to him and he just laid there, his chest rising and falling.

They said nothing at first, neither of them making a sound. Renly closed his eyes as he tried to block out the empty feeling growing inside him. He took in a large breath of air and he opened his eyes slowly as the gravity of his words settled on him.

“Loras,” he said quietly. He reached out slowly, unsure how to proceed. He rested his hand lightly on Loras’ arm and felt his heart speed up when he did not pull away. His eyes remained closed and he simply laid there, his face still slightly flushed.

He moved his hand up his arm, his breathing still. He reached his cheek and watched Loras closely as he moved his fingers, brushing the skin hesitantly.

It was then that Loras’ eyes snapped open, and Renly’s entire body froze at how cold they were. He had not looked at Renly like that since Stormsend.

His body tensed up as he recoiled from his touch. He rose from the bed and took quick steps away from him.

Renly pushed himself off the bed and followed, standing in front of him, a touch away. He reached out, and Loras spun his body around, placing his hands on the wall. He leaned his head against his arms, and his shoulders rose in deep, tense breathes.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” Loras said, his voice unsteady, “because you will never touch me again.”

Renly stopped moving, and he felt his entire body come to a halt. He felt as though his heart stopped beating, his blood no longer pumping. His mouth opened and closed quickly after. He did not know what to say, and he did not think he could speak if he wanted to.

Loras turned, his chest still heaving. Renly could see the cum on his stomach, running down his body in slow streaks. Renly made a choked sound in his throat, the sight too much.

Loras took a step forward, his fists clenched. He said nothing at first, waiting for Renly to attempt something. When Renly remained still, his eyes narrowed. “ _Get out_ ,” he nearly spat.

Renly had to leave. He wanted nothing more than to pull Loras into his embrace and run his fingers across the harsh creases of his face, kissing the skin after, but he could not. His time was up. He had already taken too much tonight, more than he thought he would be able to.

He took a step back and bent down, reaching for his small clothes. He pulled on himself, feeling the cool fabric against his skin. He turned slowly and took the remaining steps to the door, his entire body feeling heavy. With a hand on the wall he took one last glance back and saw Loras sitting on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands.

Renly gathered up all the strength he could muster and stepped into the hall, feeling as if he left his heart behind him in the room.


End file.
